


Finding Home

by outlawqueenbey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 19:32:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13531092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlawqueenbey/pseuds/outlawqueenbey
Summary: It's been eighteen years since that day. The day that changed everything. And he is back, searching for answers and there is only one person who can help him. If she will let him back in..





	1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

**_This is going to a small verse - the number of chapters hasn't been set but I know where this is going to go. It's going to be angsty, mixed with some fluff/comfort/and family love. It's an OQ story, but it's really much more than that. Hopefully you all like it and will leave me with your thoughts._ **

**_xx_ **

**_xxx_ **

It's been eighteen years since he's been here and it feels strange. To be walking along these sidewalks, passing by houses and shops he'd long forgotten. The town somehow seems  _less_  bright than his memories provided, a touch colder, and quieter, creating a rather eery feeling in his heart.

There are people that walk by him, a few stare for a second longer, trying to place him before moving on without any real care. It strikes him odd, that in a town where every face was known by everyone, no one seemed to take a second look at him, a stranger. He recognizes a few of them, kind of. The ginger doctor and his dog, both who walk as though a weight presses them down. The old woman and her granddaughter who barely take passing notice as the door chimes behind him.

It's certainly not how he recalls Storybrooke, but then again, there is a lot he doesn't remember. Not since  _that_ day. His brain has blocked a large portion of it out in some attempt to protect and shield him from the truth. He knows it too. The questions he'd asked that were avoided with sad eyes, names he'd use that no one else would, remarks which were pushed to the background.

Eventually the quiet just took over everything in his world. Why bother asking when no one will give a answer.

He supposes it's why he came back. For answers. To figure out the what, and the why, to put some reasoning behind the holes in his mind. Sitting at the counter, he orders a hot chocolate and cinnamon, the spice familiar on his tongue and at least it is something he can recognize.

He's not actually sure where to start. Who to ask, where to find those who can help him. It's usual for him though. To be alone like this. Walking through life with uncertainty and loneliness as his closest companions. It's been this way for a while now. He forgets how it felt before, when life was normal.

"Home" had become hollow. Everything was hushed, there was no laughter, no endless tales of adventure, and certainly no feeling of familiarity. Even if they told him it was where they were supposed to be. Back here. In this place. Not in that one. They belonged  _here_. He belonged  _here._

It never felt like it. Not for one day did it remind him of  _home_. Years ticked by, and the lightness in his heart dimmed. It was hard to find things to be cheerful about, a rarity if he even smiled. He can't actually remember the last time he smiled, r _eally_  smiled. Probably before they all left.

She used to smile. Had one of the most beautiful ones he had ever seen. Does she still smile?

There is so much he wonders about her. Far more he remembers too. She is what stuck, the one face cemented into his brain. The color of her hair, dark brown like the trees, matching her eyes, though if he concentrates hard enough he is certain they held flecks of sunshine. She smelled of roasted apples, and was always,  _always_  warm to the touch. On many nights he could hear her voice, gentle and kind, matched to a low rumbling laugh that echoed in her chest. He liked her laugh. Especially when she genuinely laughed. There are fuzzy memories of him laughing with them. With her.

He hasn't laughed in years.

Downing the rest of his cocoa, he grabs his coat and toque, leaving what he hopes is enough cash to keep him in Granny's good graces should things not exactly go as planned. He doesn't actually  _have_  a plan, but he turns left out of the diner anyway, knowing the route by heart. Eighteen years and he knows it takes exactly 214 steps to get to her house; a left straight away, walk 68 steps, turn right and walk to the red light 87 steps away, another right, past the blue house, and 59 steps later there it is.

Stark white against the black night sky, a single porch light glowing dismally in the corner, every other window dark. What if she isn't home? Will she even remember him? It's an all too real fear that sparks in his heart as he stares up at the looming willow trees that frame her house. What if she doesn't  _want_  to see him?

The iron gate is chill under his palm, creaks as it opens, he winces at the disruption into the silence of the night. 108. The gold numbers shine out like a beacon, tugging him forward with every step. A rush of excitement gushes through him just thinking about the chance she is beyond the familiar white oak framing and four pillars. For the first time in years, since he found the portal to get back, hope flickers. He'd traded everything personal possession (which wasn't much) to a man with a strange hat, whose dark blue eyes drilled into him when he mentioned her name, who he was, why he wanted to go back and see her.

The door is cold as he traces the gold numbers, and the previous burst of elation slowly ebs away, swallowed by trepidation once more. Eighteen years is a long time. There's a definitely possibility she has moved on, has a new life, a life that doesn't need him in it. His head hits the door with a rather loud thud. That wasn't his intention, he'd planned to knock. His heart thunders as a light flickers on in what he remembers to be the den, muffled footsteps shift.

This is it.

For a second he is stunned by the strange tall blonde that opens the door, standing near as tall as he, a brimming fire behind bright accusing blue eyes. She glowers, and he shrinks, unaware of what words will appease this apparent guardian dragon. He's never seen this woman before, would have certainly branded her scowling face in his mind as one to avoid.

"I-uh-I apologize M'lady."

"Who are you?"

He steps away, unsteady and unsure of what to say. He shouldn't have come back, this was a bad idea. She isn't here. "I'm sorry, I must have the wrong address." He turns, and his heart sinks into the cratering darkness, wrapping it's cold hands around him like an old unwanted friend.

"Mal? Who's at the door?"

He hears her before he see's her.

That same velvet smooth voice that has been talking to him for near two decades. His eyes have shut on their own, cinching together as the ability to breathe suddenly becomes near impossible without a stabbing pain. Eighteen years he has heard his name in her voice. Eighteen years, he has wondered about her, thought about her, dreamed of her.

His heart pounds furiously, setting off his shaky nerves as her heels come to a clicking stop behind him as he hears her ask again. It floods back, every moment being in this place, with the family he lost long ago. A brother who suddenly vanished, the woman who'd become his mother, simply gone without warning. And his father,  _the one face that alluded his mind, a gray fogged silhouette,_  his Papa who never came back, never said goodbye.

He freezes, begs for some strength to stay upright and keep the burning tears at bay.

"Can I help you?"

He turns back to her and the night goes silent. And he waits, unable to find the courage to look at her fully, he just stares at the ground through blurred wet teary eyes. He could run. Spin around and bolt. Far away from her. His mind panics as he hears her heels click out onto the stone porch, her breath hitched and shaking.

This was a mistake. And his brain commands him to flee, but his feet refuse to budge.

"Oh. My. God."

He feels the way her palm trembles as it finds his cheek, and she is still warm.

"Roland?"


	2. Part 2

 

It will be eighteen years next month.

Six thousand five hundred and seventy days.

It's still painful.

Eighteen times she's taken a dozen white roses and made the long cold lonely walk through the trees and between rows of headstones to where his name is etched. Emblazoned on the dark gray obsidian stone. Her fingers trace the lines, memorizing every touch he used to bestow, every bit of affection, each kiss and smile. It's all there in his name. She misses him. Everyday. For six thousand five hundred and forty two days, she has missed him.

Most people know now, in the weeks leading up the anniversary not to knock on the Mayor's door, or schedule office appointments, to give her space in the diner, and just let whatever happens happen. She needs it and is silently grateful they grant it to her.

It's a normal Tuesday night, slight chill in the air outside, threatening the first snowfall. The house is dark, save for the fire that flickers in the hearth across from where she is curled up in a thick wool blanket, a dark green she clutches tight to in these few weeks. Her wine glass could use a refill, and yet by the way her head buzzes, she should probably just turn in for the night. Another night alone.

Well not  _alone_  per say. Just not with him. For where there was him, there is now her. A quiet beloved intrusion that smiles softly but will glare deadly. A heart that has decided to love her, even till this day.

She hated it at first. The way Mal had stepped into her life, cocking a high eyebrow and all too knowing eyes. Where most would cower at the Mayor's emotional turmoil, the dragon waltzed straight into the fire, and has come out unburnt.

Turbulent. It's how she would describe their first years together as  _friends_. There was a constant tension, more so on Regina's part than Mal, but she had lost her soulmate, her second chance at love, and for whatever irritating reason, no matter the curses and rage fueled meltdowns Regina threw, it was always Mal who extended a hand and pulled her up off the floor. The tension faded into odd comfort, built on an undying understanding of security. It mattered not how many fireballs were hurled, the amount of empty nasty threats screamed out, or how many tear stained pyjamas were ruined, Mal was her safety, always has been if she thinks about it.

Scowls turned into trepidatious smiles. Batting away of a reassuring hand turned to lacing fingers together and holding tight instead. They are together in a sense,  _in every sense really,_  but Mal knows there is a part of Regina's heart forever locked away, unreachable, untouchable, and without a key to ever open it. She understands, is grateful to love what she can, and to be loved back, even if she only holds a portion of space in the Queen's heart, even having a fraction will be enough.

October is always hard. Will always be hard. Mal knows now what to do, what to say, which moments she can touch and which she can't. She never met the thief, at least not in the flesh, though her castle had once or thrice been plundered by him and his band of men. And what would have made her blood boil at the thought of being stolen from, has been lost to a low simmering pain for the woman in front of her who stares blankly into the flames.

There are nights she wonders if she hadn't come back, if the Queen would even be here.

"Can I get you another glass?"

Regina nods, sighing as her eyes close. He'd said it once, and it rings true for her. His smile is there, in the darkness of her mind, in the midst of sleep, every time she closes her eyes, it's all she sees. Whether it brings her peace, she can't really tell. Half her heart beats furiously, glowing, bursting at the seams, wishing he would never fade. The other half singes, crumbles and craters, begging his smile to go away, for the pain is just too much. But what can she do? He is part of her soul, sewed into the inner beatings of her own, forever bound together.

"Here."

Turning, she gives a half hearted smile, reaching for the glass stem, tucking it into her chest as her eyes find the fire once more. Mal is fire. One of the only people who can keep her own fire flickering. Most inhabitants in the town have receded away from her. There are still the Charmings, but they are filled with their own lives. A heroic teenager to try and reign in, a daughter and her pirate lover whom have sprouted two grandkids to babble over. She doesn't fault them, she can't. They found their happiness and in a small seeded spot in her heart, she  _is_  happy for them. Zelena comes and goes, visiting every so often, but it's odd between them. The love her sister lost all those years ago, just isn't comparable. The reasons why Regina sits here without him, are still fuzzy in where the blame is to be placed. She's tired of blame though. Can no longer find the fight inside to storm and stew over what was taken, to run wild with insanity, hell bent on revenge of another lost love. She's just too tired.

A strange new friendship however has come from the woodworker, Gepetto. He is kind. Will sit down at her kitchen counter, drink a cup of tea with a crinkled grin and tell her whatever tales he can remember, recall whatever will bring a smile to her forever saddened eyes.

She shuffles, lifts her legs as Mal slides back into the sofa, patting her thighs to rest over Mal's, tucking the blanket around them both, and settling back into the quiet of their home. "Do you want a hand rub?" Mal splays her palm open, testing to see if this is one of those nights where soft intimacy can be shared. She waits as Regina stares down for a half second at her awaiting hand, grimacing slightly before sniffing back the glimmer of tears and gently letting their fingertips touch.

Mal starts easy, playing with Regina's hand, squeezing the pads, tugging mildly at each knuckle, rolling and kneading the skin quietly as Regina's head falls to the couch cushion with a distant tired hum. Popping a few joints, Mal flicks her gaze up, finding her love's eyes glazed over as she stares down at their joined hands. Seem's her plan to soothe a sad soul isn't exactly working she dejects internally. These are always the worst few weeks, followed by holidays Regina never got to experience with Robin, birthdays, milestones and every other silly mundane thing that was stolen away.

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Mal smoothes into Regina's palm.

"You have lived for over a century"

She snorts, arching a high blonde eyebrow quipping "If you mean how do I look so good for my age, that's a sworn secret"

Regina smiles, kind of, sniffing back a lining of tears that break Mal's heart. Squeezing Regina's hand, Mal shifts, closing in the space between them "Tell me"

It's a thick heavy sigh in answer, Mal thumbing away a stray tear from whiskey brown eyes.

"You will outlive everyone, have lost so many people, and I just don't understand how you do it. Knowing that at some point this will be a distant memory"

It's not the direction she thought this conversation was going, but it is the truth. She has watched lifetimes disappear, the biology of her DNA tethering her to this world for centuries.

"Before Stefan, did you love someone else?"

Taking a moment to figure out how best to explain, Mal snags Regina's wine glass, sipping it down methodically as brown eyes watch silently. Clearing her throat, she lays their hands in her lap, toying the the ruby ring on Regina's middle finger, a piece of jewellery Mal has had since the day she first became the Sorceress Maleficent, the feared Dragon Queen of the Dark Forest.

"Stefan was more of an infatuation. I simply wanted to prove to those who doubted that should I want to have something, or in that case someone, I could. I don't know if I ever really  _loved_  him."

Mal muses for a moment, memories flooding back in of a life so long ago. "I have had two great loves of my rather long life" She grins cheekily as Regina huffs out a light laugh, moving to rest her head on her hand, waiting for the rest of the tale.

"I had become,  _The Dragon Queen_  on accident really. I was bored of my life, being the daughter of a blacksmith wasn't very exciting and I was restless. So a few weeks after my twentieth birthday I left home, traded things I probably shouldn't have, made a deal with a wizard who promised I could have everything I wanted. It seemed too good to be true. But I was young and naive."

Blinking back her shock at realizing she doesn't actually know Maleficent's beginning, Regina straightens, brushes back her fallen hair before quietly nodding for Mal to keep going, it's a nice distraction from the riddled pain swirling in her brain.

"It was maybe ten years into my magic training and whole "I'm now a dragon" thing, and the castle I was borrowing..." she smiles with a wink "was one night being looted"

"I take it they felt the wrath of Maleficent" Regina chuckles, pressing a kiss to the back of Mal's hand who returns the laugh, rolling her eyes as she sips another bit of wine.

"I didn't have much wrath or rage back in those days, but the dragon side of me is rather possessive of my things. I went down to the treasury and was confronted not by thieves, but by a single gypsy girl"

"A gypsy was robbing you?"

Mal nods, sighing as she turns to catch Regina's eyes "She had the most stunning green eyes I'd ever seen, black curling hair thick to her waist, and lips that only one other woman has ever rivalled in their beauty."

She leans in to kiss Regina's shy smile, soaking in the soft plump sugar textured taste. Kissing Regina is a delicacy in all it's own, a dessert she'd gladly sample every moment of the day. Pecking a last chaste kiss, Mal pulls back, humming happily before going back to her story.

"It apparently didn't take much to tamed the  _beast_ , not but a pair of pretty eyes and a sharp wit, which obviously hasn't changed. Anyway, her name was Esmeralda, and she was the most devastatingly sensational creature I had ever met. She loved being a nomad, roaming from place to place, seeking adventure, living free; something I had desired to do my entire life. We fell in love, or rather I fell in love." Mal laments, downing the last of the merlot.

"What happened to her?"

With a sad smile, Mal stares down at her hand, still laced into Regina's, "She got restless being in the castle with me, and I was to afraid to leave. We got into an argument of sorts where I said some things I regret to this day, and she left".

Heartbreak. It's written all over the Dragon's face, surely matching the strangling feeling in Regina's soul.

"Did you ever find her?"

Wiping away the brimming of tears, Mal nods, sniffing hard, "I was lost without her. Spent nearly eight years searching for her, and by the time I did find her, it was too late. She had been hung for being a gypsy, the only thing Esmeralda loved being, herself"

Silence encompasses the pair, the fire across slowly dying out, draining the heat from the room slowly. Regina shifts, crawling over and cradling herself into Mal's arms, resting her cheek against the dragon's warm skin, listening to the staccato arrhythmia she's grown accustom to lulling her to sleep. Loving love, it does something to the heart, bruises and batters it to the point it's unable to heal, forever pained, and Regina feels it. Eighteen years later, it hurts in every breath she takes, her heart soundlessly breaking with each beat, a hidden constant anguish that won't go away. How much is a heart supposed to take before it's too much.

"Do you think there is a limit?"

"To what love?"

"How much heartache one is supposed to live with?"

Mal sighs, pressing a kiss to the crown of Regina's hair, carding through the long chocolate locks she so loves to play with. "I think heartache is what keeps us human."

"I suppose, doesn't make it any easier"

"No. It doesn't"

The room goes quiet again, thick emotion suffocating between them, years of far too much torment and far too little moments of peace.

"Do you want a refill?" Mal breaks the silence "I mean, technically I drank all of yours".

Regina nods, lifting her legs to let Mal stand, grabbing both empty wine glasses on her way up and stepping around the coffee table.

"Mal?"

"Mmmmm?"

"You said you have had two great loves, Esmerelda your first, but Stefan was only an infatuation..."

Maleficent turns, smiling sweetly at Regina's confused expression, still wrapped up in a green thick wool blanket, hair tousled and fallen imperfectly perfect, thick plum rimmed glasses hanging from her grey silk shirt, no longer the lost turmoiled Queen Maleficent once met, but someone far more precious.

She sets the wine glasses back down on the table, hovering above Regina for a moment to cup her soft cheek, she loves this woman, the Queen of her heart. Smiling Mal leans in to kiss Regina, soft and sweetly, "You're right, I have two great loves of my life." Mal glows as Regina beams, a spattering of deep pink blush painting her cheeks. "Now back to refilling the wine," she hums into Regina's forehead, pressing one more kiss there, before heading back to her earlier task.

Fortunately they have multiple chilled bottles ready for disposing for nights such as these, and Maleficent sets to her task quickly, fishing out the wine opener, knowing her magic could do it quicker, but the simple mundane things make everything seem better, more real, and when a pair of arms wrap around her waist, she hears her own internal voice sighing, finally understanding what this  _feeling_ is, being happy.

A thud at the door, pulls Regina reluctantly away. No one comes around the mansion right now, unless it's Snow, but even then, she knows better than to just show up out of the blue right now. Frowning, they cast a glance at one another, both not ready to give up their night for something that is going to be irritatingly disturbing.

"I'll get the door, you keep pouring that wine" Mal huffs, glaring at the entrance.

She hears Mal leave, her tall heels clicking on the wooden floors, the door opening and then Regina can't find it in her to really listen, has hopes that Mal will just glower and send the intruder away quickly. But when the door doesn't shut and she hears Mal walk outside asking again "Who are you?", Regina growls, setting her delicious wine down, and marching to the door. Hell hath no fury like the mayor kept from her wine.

She is just about to send her own daggers and sharp tongued attack when it all just stops. Goes deadly silent, the background of the world fading away as the "intruder" turns around, ceasing the beating of her heart in the same fraction.

It can't be him. She lost him. Without even getting the chance to fight to keep him here, with her. It can't be him...but the unruly wild brown curls are like a stab to the gut, deep set dimples on the side of chiseled cheeks another punch to her lungs.

"Oh. My. God."

She is shaking, uncontrollably, but her feet move on their own accord, past Mal who stands dumbfounded at the door, down the one single stone step and six paces to where he is standing still as a statue, refusing her meet her eyes, but she knows their color, dark warm hickory brown, bright as the sun.

"Roland?"

His tense inhale of breath, steals her own away. And he looks up, and Regina can't find any words as she stares into the eyes of her lost soulmates son, her lost son.


	3. Part 3

"Hi."

.

..

He's here.

.

..

It's him.

.

..

Standing in front of her. In a green oversized jacket spattered with white fluff from falling snow, and brown khaki pants with the hem soaked.

He is not two feet from her. Real and breathing. 18 inches away.

A face she hasn't seen in eighteen years. Had lost forever ago without the chance to even say goodbye.

Resentful anger had been her only companion for years after learning they let Roland just  _leave_. Deciding it was best that he simply hold Little John's hand and walk through a portal not days after his father died, leaving Regina behind without even giving her the goddamn chance to fight for him to stay. He should have stayed. With her. He was hers.

She had to find out from Ruby, of all people in this god forsaken town, the wolf was the only one brave enough to walk up to the frantic Queen in search of her youngest. Had called her name, grabbed her hand, and devastated her with two words. "He's gone."

It was all she said before the questions flew.

_Gone? Gone where? Who took him? Is he okay? What Happened?._

Finding out her little archer had been taken was a nail in her coffin. A day she'd rather forget given how scorched she'd left parts of the town. Abandoned warehouses, old run down cars, forgotten grass fields no one cared about really, but it was the start of her "meltdown" as  _they_ called it.

The first puzzle piece in the emotional destruction that thundered and pulsed from the Mayor's palms. Waving torrents of black purples swirling around like a cloud, cracking like hard thunder, shattering the sky with violent lightning. It corroded, melted, and destroyed everything around her till it was nothing but ash beneath her heels, matching near everything else in her world.

She doesn't like to remember that day.

The shock in people's eyes, fear in their faces, tension in their bodies as she turned to face them, desperate for something, for anything or anyone to give her a grain of peace. It never came. Gone were the days of the Evil Queen, but still, forever and always there are memories of the past.

They were scared.

Though Snow may have shakily reached out to touch her, it was there, behind green watery eyes that tried to prove resilience weathering another storm, it was just anxious fear. Waiting like a scared deer for a wolf to pounce. Snow had been the one to find the Merry Men...had let them know there was a way the could go back to Sherwood Forest...she thought it was for the best, what they would want...never once considering who was being left behind. Robin's death may not have been her fault, but losing Roland…that certainly felt like it was.

She's ashamed of that day. Kind of. At least it's what people tell her now she should be….ashamed of the raw outburst and how poetically it was put by some who spat at back at her that " _It's not our fault."_

But wasn't it?

It  _was_  all their fault. Each and every single one of them who didn't run to that portal and haul Roland back. Whoever thought it was okay that her son be taken from her without even a single question...it dredged up far more painful memories than she liked to admit. It happened once before and it happened again.

For weeks she'd locked herself in away in her house, sitting on Roland's green checkered covered twin bed ( _never her own, she hadn't slept there since the other side was left horridly vacant_ ), resting against the headboard, staring at the ceiling covered with plastic glow in the dark stars, clutching a grey plush monkey to her chest, and letting tears silently fall.

Her pain was quiet. It always has been. There is no over the top emotional sobbing, clutching to someone's hands for strength, no wailing or cursing the gods above for all to hear ( _they never answer anyway)_.

She just cries. Without sound.

Henry said it was worse that way.

Not hearing her sadness when walking into the kitchen, a smiled greeting faltering on his face, replaced by a feeling of utter uselessness at seeing fat droplets curl down her cheeks as she held a plastic fork and spoon. Child's cutlery,  _his_ cutlery, lime green with silver painted  _R's_ on the handles, utensils that wouldn't be touched ever again. It burned his heart, seeing his mother drowning in quiet anguish over the littlest of things, like a green plastic spoon.

It happened everywhere, without control, without any warning, for years before people became optionally blind to it.

She cried.

So many times at Granny's over pancakes ( _which she refuses to eat now, syrup is no longer sweet, but stale and cloyingly thick when not accompanied by little giggles_ ) that it had become almost regular that Granny would lead Regina into the back, to a private table away from prying eyes, where she could sniffle away over orange juice and bacon.

She'd cry. Nearly every morning sitting on her porch with a cup of cold coffee, or walking through the school yard waiting vacantly alone for one boy instead of two to come rushing out of the doors, never hearing a gaggle of happy pleading to go for ice cream, or feel a tiny hand clutch the one not held by his father. She'd cry when passing by massive oak trees with wooden swings left empty, swaying with the wind instead of a playmate, sitting at home on the floor folding laundry loads that were too small, the fact she barely changed didn't help either, the abysmal single stack of perfectly folded clothing only screamed that there were two people missing.

It didn't matter what it was, or who was around, even seeing the leaves change color, fading away the rich lavish green's she so loved into soggy rusted mucky browns that moulded into the dirt, she would cry, silently to no one, unable to keep the tears at bay, but never allowing her voice to join.

She hasn't cried in a very long time though.

"Roland."

Her voice cracks, dry and watery at the same time. If this is another one of those times her mind is playing games with her, it's just cruel.

His skin is cold underneath her palm, chilled and pink tinged. He's real. Is so incredibly different than she remembers, but is exactly the same. Shaggy, chocolate curls smushed beneath a charcoal beanie. Hickory brown eyes that stare at her with trepidation, the exact same look that melted her heart back in the Enchanted Forest, solidifying the moment the Queen fell in love with a little boy.

She suddenly thinks of his room. Left the exact same way not 200 feet behind her, a green checkered blanket, painted trees on the walls, plastic bow and arrows tucked into corners, and a grey plush monkey gently laid on winter coal pillows. He could see it all again. Could sleep just down the hall from her like he used to, and she could make him breakfast in the morning. He will need a bigger bed given that he stands a good 8 inches taller than her now. She smiles, he's at least as tall as...oh...dammit.

The heat builds behind her eyes instantly, a trigger that is his name but she will not cry. She can't. Not right now.

He's stuck, the words dying in this throat as he just stares at her. Is rooted looking at her eyes, warm walnut colored and brimming with unshed tears along dark lashes. He can't look away from them. He's waited what feels like a lifetime to see her eyes again. His heart clutches tightly hearing her voice whisper his name, the feeling of her hand pressed against his cheek, stark in contrast to the cold that surrounds them, it's too much and yet not enough.

Her hair is longer than he remembers. Curls around her shoulders, odd strands wisping around her pink tinged cheek in the slight of wind. But she is everything he remembers. And for the first time, in a long time, he feels tears burning behind his eyes and he smiles, for a half beat she matches with a watery disbelieving grin.

They move at the same time, his arms wrapping around her shoulders as she clutches around his waist. He curls into her, burying himself like the little boy lost so long ago into the crook of her neck, breathing in the honeycrisp apple of her hair, relishing in the feeling of her hands gripping his jacket as she hugs him back fiercely.

"I can't believe you're here."

She stammers between laughing and choking back tears, running her hands around his torso to cup his face, his beautiful perfect face, all filled out and chiseled but it's still him. Her thumbs smooth along his cheekbones, over his eyebrows and eyes, into the fallen wild curls on his forehead, tracing every feature over and over again.

"I missed you." She wraps her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoes thanks to their new height difference, tucks into his jacket with a repetitive shaking of her head, letting her fingers drift into the back of his hair, just like she always used to do.

It's freezing, but he can't really find the willpower to move, to let her go just yet. He's missed her too. Has spent nearly his entire adult life trying to find her, to get back to her, hoping that for once, there are answers waiting. He needs those answers. Needs to know why he was shipped off, passed from one family to the next, left alone by his father without a word, and orphaned by the only mother he knew. For all he understands, his father didn't love him enough to stay, and Regina cared too little to keep him.

Anger. It flushes through him. And though half of his heart begs him to stay, to hold onto her a little longer, resentment wins out and he pushes her off slowly, clearing his throat. It will do no good to give into temptation when there is so much on the line. She was home for him once. But that was a long time ago. His smiles fades, a gloved hand quickly wiping away the remnants of emotion on his chilled cheeks as he sniffs back hard. The bitterness returns quickly as he steps away, righting his coat even though Regina frowns in confusion as his sudden departure, wiping away her own tears and gauging him anxiously.

And then there is just silence, a dead hollow space.

Where two feet separate them in reality, an ocean lies between.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, tamping down their need to reach out to her again. It was nice, better than standing here vacant and alone. He can't though. He wants to. But he can't. A lifetime filled with abandonment isn't so easily swallowed down.

She's unsure of what to say. Is completely taken aback by the way he pushed her off and avoids her eyes now, opting to stare off to the side, focusing on the willow tree with an indignant sullen glare.

He's upset.

With her she isn't exactly sure, but his hostility punches her in the gut.

She hears Mal clear her throat from behind them, a gentle questioning if she should say something. He must be cold, she is damn cold without his body heat, hadn't really noticed it until he forced her back. Chewing on her lip warily, she turns slightly to find Mal leaning against the white pillar, cocking an eye at the stranger she doesn't yet know, well she knows  _of Roland_ , but much like Regina's departed soul mate, it's all just memories.

She'd like Mal to be here, instead of thirty feet back. To have some sort of reassurance and guidance in place of standing in the middle of her front yard completely uncertain of what to do.

He liked hot chocolate with cinnamon.

Her voice shakes slightly as she turns back to him, "Do you want to come inside?" followed with a small trepidatious smile. For a moment, he doesn't even acknowledge her question, just scowls harder into the darkness of the night, she can see his jaw tensing behind a thick swallow and her heart cracks.

He is most definitely angry with her, has every right to be furious.

She never went to find him. Had tried, more than once. Still has the scars from magic gone wrong to prove it. But he doesn't know that. There is so much to explain.

"I could make you some cocoa? You must be freezing." It's a feeble attempt, but it does get him to cast a quick glance in her direction, a slight nod that has her soul swirling.

It's a start.

**.**

**..**

**…**

**..**

**.**

It's completely the same. The white walls, pewter greys and accents of black. It even smells the same. The rich amber infused foyer hitting him like a block. Fourteen steps up and two doors down on the left would be his room. Twenty two steps away from where his papa used to sleep, nine away from Henry's door and sixteen to the bathroom. He wonders if it is all the same.

"Can I take your coat?"

He turns, seeing Regina standing just behind him, wringing her hands gingerly, playing with a single silver band on her middle finger, a deep green emerald twisting between her fingers. Papa gave that to her. On a night where nothing special had happened, he heard them in the kitchen, irritatingly talking over the Lion King. He had gotten up to scold them, it was his favorite part coming up, Simba and Scar about to battle in the fire ring, it was the best part of the entire movie and they knew that. He remembers stomping into the kitchen, seeing her smiling as papa held her hand and both looking down at something he couldn't exactly see. Much to his annoyance, they kissed, a gross thing only they did, but she was still smiling, lopping a hand around papa's shoulders, and there it was. A sparkly green ring he'd never seen her wear before. Why they were making such a big fuss, he wasn't sure, but they were still kissing and that was enough, the volume on the remote would just have to drown out their ickiness.

It strikes him odd she would still be wearing it.

He noticed it. Is staring blatantly at her hands, watching intently as she fidgets with the ring Robin gave her. It's been on this finger for eighteen years. She'd almost lost it once washing dishes, had panicked beyond measure, and begged Mal to enchant it, ensuring it never could slide off again. It's the color of his coat he used to wear. A deep brilliant green gem he'd given her, just because he thought it was pretty, and she was pretty and therefore the two went hand in hand.

Shaking his head no in response to her question of taking his jacket, Regina nods, stepping around him awkwardly and leading him to the kitchen. Thirty three steps, now reduced down to a small seventeen. The blonde woman already there, heating up what smells like chocolate, and Regina walks around the granite island, brushing past the other woman with a smile. It's strange to him, and he feels strange standing in the archway, watching as Regina moves two cupboards to the right where he knows the mugs are, lacing her fingers around two and carefully places them down on the counter.

Everything is far too similar. It's all in the same place, appearing to be untouched, frozen in time. It's claustrophobic. He see's his dad everywhere. In front of the stove where Regina is now, leaning against the fridge with a dumb grin, even sitting at the expansive oak table to the left, in the chair beside the cabinet where the whiskey was kept, on the right of where Regina sat at the head, across from where Henry would be...and beside where he himself used to sit.

"Do you still like cinnamon?"

He shrugs, not really caring what is set down in front of him. Not when his head is spinning like a tabletop, memories punching from every side, every bloody thing in this place attacking him all at once. Why couldn't she have at least changed the color of the walls. The friendly companion of anger boils deep in his stomach, brewing steadily as he turns to watch her stir the pot of milk, acting like nothing is wrong, like she hadn't just abandoned him all those years ago. He hates her for it. Hates everything about being here, sitting on this same stool, leaning over the same counter top, being in this god damn awful place. He hates it.

Mal bumps her from the side, throwing a curious, cautious glance over her shoulder silently. Regina figures she is just trying to get some answers as to what is going on, but in truth Regina herself doesn't really know. Shifting to turn back to Roland, she figures he'd be waiting with a happy smile like he used to, but the sullen tempered look she finds stalls her. His fists are clenched on the island, tensing and shaking slightly as he scowls deeply into nothingness. His neck is rigid, tendons flexing under a flush of rogue as he leans over the counter.

From what she pictured in her mind, this is not the boy she expected. Where there had been light in his eyes as a child, only a slow burning storm lives. There is no trace of the smile he had worn minutes ago outside. No disbelieving happiness exuding from him. For a second, she is a bit afraid. No, not afraid, it's Roland, he wouldn't hurt her. But maybe daunted at the thought of sitting down beside him and his tense state. She could stand. Or would that be to obvious she is wary of him?

She's not. This is Roland. There is no reason for her to be this nervous. Absolutely, unequivocally ridiculous that there are jittery butterflies bouncing about her stomach as she steps forward, settling both mugs of steaming hot cocoa on the island, gingerly sitting down as though he is some sort of deer, about to be startled at any moment should she move to quick. He likes foxes. Was utterly enthralled with the disney version of his father's life, would topple over in a fit of giggles at the way Little John was portrayed as some big googly bear. Robin was completely abhorred at the fact he wasn't some manly tiger, but a scrawny rodent. It had taken her quite some time to convince him that the sly fox was rather handsome, amusingly so, and they had the same smirk, he didn't believe her, but was easily persuaded by some pretty lingerie and a few well placed kisses.

"Where's Henry?"

"He's here. Went to University at NYU and then decided to come back and work at the school as a history teacher. He and Violet live a few blocks away."

He nods, tapping the mug on the counter.

"I'm sure he'd love to see you."

Again, he nods. But it's less enthusiastic this time. Non committal in response. It has her wondering if he would even want to see Henry. Would it just be another wound reopened. Another of several she imagines. And yet. It's Henry. The boy who still has the heart of the truest believer. Pure and good. With hazel eyes that have this way of settling any tormented soul. He's done it for her time and time again.

"Maybe we could go have dinner tomorrow?"

Henry. His brother that vanished. A hero that came to be, and left without a trace. He'd be lying to say his heart didn't jump at the sound of his name. A stuttering of hope. But the nights in a tent alone listening to the thunderous rain come rushing back. Back when things made sense, and the rain would fall, he would grab his stuffed monkey and quietly sneak into his brothers room, curling into a ball at the end of the larger bed, feeling just that much safer, and waking up tucked into the blankets with him. It went without fail if he asked, he'd get a story. One from Henry's big brown book. But there was no one to snuggle in beside in the Enchanted Forest. Maybe Little John, but he snored like an ogre. So Roland would lay on his small cot, shivering in the chill, wishing his papa was there to warm him up, or Regina around to scratch soothing lines up and down his back till he fell asleep. But he was alone, and would be alone for a very, very long time.

So would he like to see Henry? The truth? Yes. And No. For a boy who was the "author" and could technically rewrite any story, it never made sense to Roland that Henry became a bystander. Letting people be taken away without reason. He could have changed it. Could have made everything better. But he didn't. He did nothing. They all did nothing.

The last gulp of her cocoa is cold, gritty chocolate powder coating her mouth as she attempts to swallow the sweet, sandy concoction down. It's been a long time since she has had hot chocolate. It probably isn't helping that her heart is thundering a mile a minute, her brain working overtime to halt the clicking of her heel against the stool foot rest. Waiting is awful. Silently sitting here, anticipating Roland to say something. By the way he clenches and unclenches around his untouched cup, she figures he doesn't really know what to say. Mal's hand curls around her shoulder, squeezing softly before she too settles down beside Regina, tilting her head, taking in the new tense company in her home. Nothing is going to get accomplished if they all just sit here staring at the walls.

"I've heard quite a lot about you Roland." Mal starts, doing her best to smile when his dark brown eyes flick up to hers. He has the same shade as Regina, nearly, they are a touch darker in their hue, but similar still. The wild, curly brown hair crammed underneath his cap could even rival the long wavy locks Regina sports after a shower. In a weird thought, he almost looks like he could be her son. "I didn't get the chance to meet your father, but from what I know he was an incredible man. I'm sure you must miss him."

How the hell would she know if he misses him. She didn't know his dad, has no clue who he himself is, or what he feels. This strange tall blonde with wide peircing blue eyes who sits close enough to Regina their forearms brush against one another. He shrugs, irritated, and focuses on a small silver picture frame tucked behind a basket of red apples. It's them. Within seconds he can't hear what the other woman is saying, can only focus on the bright blue eyes that smile back at him, his heart pounding in his chest. He has no photo of his father, not a sketch, nothing, goes off of what he remembers in his mind, and even then sometimes it's a little foggy. But his eyes, he will never forget papa's eyes.

Regina casts a glance to where his attention is suddenly glued to, and she grimaces. A happy grimace if that is even possible as she spies the photo. A memory frozen forever in time, back to easier moments, happier ones. A beautiful sunday morning with her boys still clad in checkered pajamas, covered in a soft wool blanket tucked around the three of them, all beaming up at her from the couch as she snapped the picture. That was their first sunday waking up together in the same house. The blessed sunrise after she'd asked Robin, well more so told him, that he and Roland might as well move in, given that they spend six nights a week here anyway, with all their belongings, it just made sense, to make it official.

"That was a good day." Hot tears burn the backs of her eyes as she reaches for Mal's fingers, holding tight though her jaw trembles slightly when she turns back to see Roland running a palm over his face, cheeks slightly reddened, eyes painfully shining. She acts on instinct. Leaning over to rest her hand on him, squeezing the muscular forearm in hopes it will do something to appease his agony. He shoots a wary look down at her hand, the green emerald sparkling on her middle finger. God he misses her. Misses all of them.

"I miss him too."

He swallows thick at the crack in her voice. If she missed him, she should have done something. She has magic, there had to have been a way, she just needed to try harder. The torment rips through him as he looks back at the photo. Did she miss him? Or just his dad?

"You never came back." … "Either of you."

He shrugs her arm off, glaring down at the brown goop in his mug, wishing it didn't hurt so much listening to her sharp inhale and shaky exhale as she tucks her hand back into her lap. He shouldn't have shook her off. Her touch was warm. And he feels so cold.

"I tried, Roland."

"Did you though?"

Her heart skips when he looks up at her with angry disbelief. Searching her face for some fraction of the truth that she did in fact to everything in her power to find him.

"Yes. I did. I promise you, I did."

"Your magic was just faulty that day?"

It's low, hits her hard, punching straight into her gut as he scowls, shaking his head and shifting further away on his chair. He has no idea just how hard she tried. How many hours she spent buried underneath a mountain of spell books in her vault, forgetting to eat, to sleep, giving in only when her body begged her to. She could show him. Though it would probably terrify him even more should she reach into her chest and rip out her heart, lay out all the scars from the past eighteen years that crater and scratch it. It seems over dramatic right now though, even if it may convince him.

"The portal that Zelena created with the black fairy's wand malfunctioned. It cut off the entire Enchanted Forest to anyone."

Mal sighs beside her, heavy and heartfelt as Regina wipes away a few stray tears. She knows just how hard Regina begged for anyone to help her. After the destruction of the Evil Queen, it's all she did. Bargained with her entire soul for someone to figure out a way she could get to the Enchanted Forest. Emma couldn't, Gold couldn't, even Maleficent herself used every last incantation she knew in an attempt to open a portal. It almost worked a few times. The bright golden swirl appeared and Regina would rush towards it, only to be thrown back by electrocuting cracks, the portal would collapse on itself, and Mal would be left sitting in the hospital, again, waiting to see if the Queen would open her eyes this time. More than a few of her hidden gray hairs and fine worry wrinkle lines could be attributed to near death experiences Regina's lived through.

"What about him? Did you try to bring him back?"

"Yes. But the way he died...there's nothing that could reverse it."

"So you gave up? On both of us."

Regina stalls, biting back the slowly rising guilt in her throat. It felt that way for a long time. That she just threw in the towel and opted to cower away in her mansion instead. Crawl under her covers, lick her wounds and vow to never venture into the outside world again. There isn't enough hope speeches in the world that will ever take away that bubble of shame. Maybe there was more she could have done. Another book she could have read. Travelled somewhere unknown, where someone unknown could have had the answers. She didn't though. It haunts her to this day. Almost more so giving the steeled angry brown eyes that scowl at her.

"Roland. I need you to believe me that I have spent everyday wishing you and your father were here. Please."

 _Wishing. Everyone can make a wish. But wishes don't come true._ He knows that far too well. Had asked the stars so many times to bring his family back, to let him wake up and it all just be a dream, begged that the next morning he would be in his old bed, with his stuffed monkey, in their house, with the smell of pancakes coating his room, and his father's laugh the first sound he'd hear.

His knee jumps furiously up and down, an anxious tick accompanied by the tightness in his chest that has followed him around for over a decade. She sounds convincing. The slight tremble in her voice and desperation in her eyes build a strong case that she maybe had actually attempted to find him.

It doesn't change the fact he was left without his family though. Stripped away from the only real home he knew, away from people he figured would just always be there.

He wants to believe her. The words muffling out as he sinks into the dead space. He can. If his brain would just shut off it's petulant pandering that one apology isn't enough. She owes him more than just an "I'm sorry". She hasn't even said that yet has she? Is she sorry? Or did she simply decide to carry on with her life, replace his dad with some tall legged blonde and go about her business like they never even existed.

"I missed you, Roland."

It's just not enough. He doesn't know if it ever will be.

The screech of the stool has Regina and Mal both wincing as he hauls himself to his feet, "I should go." muttering out hastily as he strides to the door. Answers won't make his dad come back, nor will they ease the constant pain in his heart he has carried for eighteen years.

"Roland wait!" Regina clambers after him, knocking over his half full mug onto the floor, paying no attention to the brown liquid that seeps along the stone inlay. He can't just leave. But he is, and she can't let that happen. Everything inside her screams to make him stop as she chases him to the door, furious, frozen air bursting into her house as he swings it open.

"Roland! Please! Don't leave."

She catches him, finally, on the bottom step of her porch, clinging to his coat desperately, begging him to turn around. His face is all sharp angles, his body filled out by thick muscle, but his eyes are the exact same. Big brown swirls that stare at her helplessly, identical to the very first time they met.

He is hers, and she lost him once, nearly destroyed herself trying to get him back, and he is about to walk away from her again.

"Please. Don't go."

His breath puffs out around her, eyes flicking to Mal who stands just behind Regina, looking as though she is ready to eat him alive for making Regina cry.

But what does it matter?

He can feel Regina's hand squeeze around his arm, gripping his own palm tight, her fingers are freezing, shakingly ice cold. She'll get sick if she doesn't go inside. As much as he hates, no, he doesn't hate her, he doesn't think. But the feeling rolling around in his gut, brewing between silent longing and bitter confusion fueled rage, that isn't as easily tamped down begs to differ.

"Don't leave."

He shakes her hand off.

"That's the thing, Regina." She winces at the hardness in his voice. "Sometimes people just leave, they don't say goodbye, and they never come back."

"Ro— "

He turns into the darkness, running away from the white mansion as fast as his legs will allow, away from her, away from the sound of her voice begging him to stay, away from all the memories he didn't want to relieve, just away, from everything.

.

..

…

..

.

Granny's.

He can go to Granny's. Spend tonight and then figure out how to get back home tomorrow.

Where  _home_  is though, is another question.


	4. Part 4

**Granny's Diner**

Sleep evaded him. Not a minute of peaceful rest to be had. He is used to it by now, the grogginess in his head, stinging of dry tired eyes, he never really sleeps anyway. Spends majority of passing nights staring up at the stars, wondering if his father is up there, paralleling his one of his favorite movies, like Simba and Mufasa, a film they used to watch every tuesday with pizza and popcorn, the four of them all snuggled into the couch together, now a blatant reality of a lost son staring at the twinkling lights in the dark abyss, so far away, intangible, untouchable, always silent even when he asks for help. They used sit against the oak tree in the backyard, the warmth of a small campfire paling in comparison to the blanket of Papa's arms hugging around him tight, and the low vibrato of Regina's voice humming in his ears as she pointed out pictures in the sky. There was a fox, a warrior, a bear, but his favorite is the lion. It reminded him of Papa's tattoo.

For years he thought about inking his own skin. Marking himself as a Locksley. A proud and honorable man of the forest. But those thoughts quickly dissolved as the isolation of loneliness settled in, as it always had. He didn't much feel like a Locksley, or a Hood, or even a Merry Man. He was just a silent wandering soul, without a name, or a place to go back to.

The hard springs of the bed didn't exactly help either. The itchy wool blanket he eventually shucked off, lest he get some sort of rash from it. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, the white popcorned roof, the incessant buzzing of the rusty fan, surely sprinkling a touch of dust around the entire room. He didn't have any money to pay for anything better, so out of the good graces of Granny, he was allowed to sleep in one of the unrenovated rooms, graciously thanking her for her kindness, and yet, the peeling of the wallpaper, yellow stained from age, fading swirling roses, that if he is being honest, look nothing like the real flower. It smells stale, has his head pounding at the lingering aroma.

The clock beside him bleeps annoyingly, a shrill sound he tosses the lump pillow at. Apparently it's time to greet another day. Sighing heavy, he shrugs his coat on, sliding feet into creased leather boots, he could use a new pair, the hole in the back of the left sole lets every single wet droplet in. He can't buy a new pair though, he has no money. Resentment spikes as he tugs at the shredded laces, knotting them together, grabbing his room key and heading out, to nowhere.

The steps creak underneath his weight, the smell of coffee a gracious escape from the stale scent of his room, it has his jaw watering, stomach grumbling as he walks through the back of the diner, into a dead empty space, nobody but the ginger haired doctor chatting with the brunette waitress in a far corner. Sliding onto a stool at the bar, he picks absently at a string on his coat, a small hole gaping open in the hem of his jacket. Just another blaring all too obvious thing to show the world just how unfortunate and unfair life treated him.

"She's been here since I got up."

He frowns, flicking his gaze up to the older woman who rubs her hands into a dirty dish cloth, eyeing something, or rather someone just beyond his shoulder, and he freezes, swallowing thickly down into the swirling mug of black that steams away in his shaking hands. "Are you going to talk to her?"

Roland stills, grimacing at the older woman who knows absolutely nothing about anything. Just another person who let him go. He remembers her. How she'd gripe and groan at pretty much everyone except him and Henry. Would stack on an extra pancake drowned in far too much syrup, giving them both a cheeky wink when Regina would turn around and eye their rather unhealthy breakfast with a huff. She was more of a fruit cup and juice kind of breakfast person. Would always pick around the cantaloupe, claiming it tasted funny, knowing full well it was Papa's favorite, would roll her eyes behind a hidden smile as she'd playfully slide her bowl over to Robin's awaiting fork. He liked those mornings. The four of them figuring out what adventure they should part-take in that day. So yes, he remembers Granny, her blue eyes sparkling behind tiny silver rimmed glasses, a sparkle he can't seem to find behind her hardened expression.

He shrugs, blatantly not looking over to Regina behind him, opting to let his stubborn hurt streak pull to the front. Tipping his empty mug at the older woman he silently asks for a refill.

"We are all out of coffee."

"What?"

Granny tilts her head sideways, scowling a smirk at him as she shuffles back to the stove, huffing out gruffly "She makes good coffee. Not like mine, but it's good." It's with that, the diner owner retreats to the kitchen, leaving Roland to stew over an empty ceramic cup and a waiting conversation he'd rather like to avoid behind him. Tortured anger pulses in his gut, holding him to the seat though a piece of him wishes for nothing more than to go over to her, but he can't, focuses on the ticking of the clock instead, watching as time barely moves. He still can't really tell time, at least not on these types of clocks, where long sticks point in advertently in ever changing angles. His clock is the sun, it's how Papa taught him and it's how he knows when to rise and when to sink into a tree and wait for the sun to come back once more.

The chime of the door draws him back, a clattering of heavy boots and boisterous laughter he excludes from. He listens as they clammer into a booth behind him, balking on about something deep in the mines, some unburied treasure only  _they_  can resurrect. Granny sweeps through the kitchens red curtain, raising her eyebrow at the fact he is still sitting at her counter, growls slightly as she passes him with a roll of her eyes and takes a full steaming pot of coffee over to the more lively table, chuckling alongside their aggravating chatter before returning behind the counter, sliding the empty glass container beside him haughtily as she eyes Regina once more.

He scowls at the old woman, to which she simply waves his indignation off, and heads back to cook. Old grouch, sticking her nose into things she has no business being a part of. He's going to get nowhere just sitting here, and the back door is suddenly crowded with people, leaving him no choice but to skid through the crowd of people that infiltrated the place without him really realizes. Thumbing his gloves on, his index finger pokes through another hole, which is just great, he mi as well get frostbite at the same time, it would be only fitting. Rolling his eyes, he grabs his toque, steals the violent shake of his nerves and steps around the first booth, eyes glued to the linoleum tiled floor, a napkin crunched in the corner, a packet of ketchup underneath a chair, gathering a small puff of dust around it, roughly making his way through the diner — "Whoa, heads up there brother." He smacks hard into someone, a short someone, who presses a dirty palm to his chest, easing him off with a confused sketching look, "You look familiar." The dwarf eyes him up, dark frown lines cratering his skin that is half covered with a peppered gray beard. It's a quick muttered apology before he is sizing up just how many steps it is to the door, before he sees her. Sitting alone. Eyes casted out the smudged window, hands wrapped loosely around a white mug. He aches from head to toe.

The commotion roused her gaze, has her shifting a fraction in the steel seat, and his heart jumps into his throat, blocking off the sweeping of bacon coated air into his lungs as their eyes connect. Apprehension meeting trepidation. His immediate reaction is to run, the flight instinct blazes into high gear, but his feet don't move, though adrenaline flushes about his body. She looks scared. Of him? It's possible. Given how he stormed out last night. He half expects her to disappear in the cloud of signature purple, leaving him (again), but against every ill-fated snarking of his mind, she doesn't. She just sits there, waiting for him, he supposes, to make the first move.

He should leave. But he doesn't. Feels his heavy boots start to shift lead legs forward, towards the small table, not missing the slight shake in her inhale as he approaches, suddenly feeling like he is the predator and she the prey, cornered with nowhere to run or hide. But her eyes don't leave his, not when he closes the 9 square tiles between them, the frozen tense minute he stands at the side of the booth, and not even when he slowly feels his knees sinking into the chair adjacent her own. It may be thundering conversation behind him, but only silence surrounds them, silence and a small circular table where if he extended just a bit he could touch her hands that rest folded against her mug. He'd like to. Hold her hand. Feel the ease the contact always brought. His fingers curl into his palm, hard in defiance to his will, surely would leave marks on his skin if the barrier of thin wool glove wasn't there. She smiles, a sad barely there twinge of her lips and his heart clenches. How can it be this hard? He's wanted nothing more than to see her again, to hear her voice, ask her a thousand questions, finally feel this dark weight lifted off his chest at her answers, and just be with her again, like he always should have been.

Yet, he looks at her, and all he sees is Papa.

He should be beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of her neck, making her blush and smile like only Papa could. It was a different smile than the one he or Henry could pull out of her. Their smile was wide, bright and toothy, usually with a scrunch of her nose and happy chuckle. Papa's smile was particular. One that hid away most of the time, but when it happened, it almost looked sad to Roland. Like she was trying to smile so she didn't cry. He never understood why though. Why this smile had Papa's eyes going all soft and hazy as he looked at Regina, usually finding her hands with his own and kissing her knuckles gently. It was like they were both afraid of something. What, Roland didn't have a clue, but it was there all the same. Sad and happy, all mixed into one. The smile stretching fragile across her face is heavy hearted, and he wishes for the hundredth time, Papa was here, and not just for him.

"Do you want some coffee?"

Her voice is light, tight and gravelly as though she has been crying, he notices the slight redness around her chocolate eyes, the pink of her cheeks not there from makeup, a crumpled up kleenex clutched in her hand.

"Granny seemed rather reluctant to refill my mug until I came to talk to you."

Her smile falters, as she nods her head dejectedly, and he kicks himself for saying it with such disdain, now that she has taken to look back out the window instead of at him, sighing to herself as she bites down on her lower lip. He can see her jaw tremble slightly, the thickness in her swallow and rapid blinking of her lashes that fight away tears he's put there, again. If he could sink into a hole deeper than the Underworld he'd gladly dig himself down there right now. He shifts uncomfortable in his own skin, tugging at the hole in his glove finger, tearing the tiny laced threads further apart, it's the only thing he can control, this ridiculous wool gap he's just made, splitting down the entire knuckle, he grimaces over the fact he just lost his only pair of gloves.

"I know you're angry with me."

He bites down hard on his tongue as she sniffs, scratching absently through her hair though avoiding his gaze still.

"You have every right to be mad."

He is mad. Furious with her. He thinks. This overwhelming need to hug her festering in the tarred cesspool of his heart, fights away the anger with all it's hopeful might, pokes at the bitterness till it squeezes out of the seams, black ooze replaced by light weightlessness. It's almost painful, being tempted into letting go of all the anger, and then what would be left? It's really all he has, this steady thumping in the base of his gut, a fire burning in his heart, raging inside, warming him from tip to toe. If he lets it go, there will be nothing left, just a cold hollow empty nothingness, and is that really any better?

"I am  _so_  sorry, Roland."

"You should be," he snaps far too quickly, dropping his gaze from her face as she recoils back in the steel chair, gripping onto her coffee a little tighter, like some sort of protection from him. She doesn't need it. He'd never hurt her, well, not physically, verbally is another story, one he wishes he could rewrite.

Shame licks up his spine as he thinks of his papa, how disappointed he'd be hearing Roland speak like this to anyone, but especially to Regina.

"I know." She sighs, fixing her already perfect hair, and toying with the emerald ring on her left hand as they fall back into uncomfortable silence, both staring into the falling flakes of snow that coat the ground outside. They only had one winter here, back when his mother came back...or not his mother, but that other red-headed woman, another name he wasn't allowed to speak of.

Life was confusing even back then.

He had Regina, then she was gone, his "mother" came back, she too gone before he really ever had her. Papa was quiet all the time in the noisy city, rarely smiled like he did in Storybrooke, spent days upon days sitting in the green chair in the corner, writing something he'd always hide once "mama" came home. Roland didn't like that place. It definitely wasn't home. And then they were back, in Storybrooke, with Regina and everything seemed to be going back to normal, until Papa and Regina left him with the fairies.

He remembers them saying goodbye, promising they wouldn't be gone long, though it felt like forever till he heard his Papa call his name in the park when he was with Little John feeding the ducks. Regina was there too, hugging him tight vowing they could get ice cream on the way home, and she'd read him two bedtime stories.

He never got those stories.

He went back to the Merry Men's camp with Little John, and waited. Waited till his eyelids drooped from exhaustion, but he couldn't go to bed yet, they promised they'd come back. Only one did. He remembers it as though it happened only moments ago. Seeing Regina standing on the edge of camp, leaning heavily against a snow covered tree, her arms wrapped tight around her, looking as though she was about to break into pieces should she take another step closer. He heard Tuck call her name quietly, silencing the ruckus of conversation about them, as they all turned, seeing the Queen frozen on the spot.

He'd run over to her, bouncing over the fact she came back and they could go get ice cream now. She was within reach when Tuck grabbed his shoulder, holding him back as the friar stepped forward first, and then she just started crying, sinking to the ice cold ground in front of them, and he didn't understand, but something was wrong. He'd never seen Regina cry like this, had only seen a few tears fall down her cheeks back in the Enchanted Forest, but nothing close to what was going on now, the tight gripping of air through her agonized sobbing, the breaking hiccups of her apologies gritted out over and over again into the dark sky. For a second all he felt was scared, goosebumps crawling up his skin as the other Merry Men circled around them, no one saying anything.

Someone said Papa's name, and he figured it was because they saw him walking through the trees, so he looked, finding nothing in the dark forest, which was odd. Papa should be coming back too, he'd promised. The shake of Regina's head, hair shielding her eyes as she gripped the dirt, holding onto the frozen ground to keep herself tethered to something lest she simply float away, the other hand strangling the black fur scarf around her neck, little tuffs ripping out as she sank back against the tree trunk, heaving in shattered breaths, that is when the real fear set in.

When Tuck knelt down in the snow, reaching to settle a hand on Regina's forearm, and all she said was she was  _sorry, so so sorry_. He doesn't remember much after that, knows that at some point he got restless standing in the snow and decided that when people were sad you should hug them, it's what Papa did and it always made Roland feel better.

He remembers the look in her red rimmed eyes, terrified as he called her name, recoiling slightly when he pulled her arms open so he could slide inside, he remembers telling her  _don't be sad, don't cry Gina_ , which only made her do so harder. So Roland did only what he thought would help, patted away the tears on her cheeks and curled into her chest, listening to the erratic beating of her heart. She didn't hug him back right away, so he tightened his grip on her, burying into the crook of her neck, humming their song into her skin that she always sang to him at night, playing with a lock of her hair until he felt her press her lips into the crown on his head, wrapping her arms finally around him.

He'd fallen asleep, sitting in her lap in the snow, waking up in his bed at her house, her arms still hugging him, their clothes still on. He'd woken before she did, the need to pee begrudgingly making him move out of their warm cocoon. The house was quiet, he couldn't hear Henry or Papa in the kitchen, which meant they had to still be sleeping. Excitement flushed through him as he skipped down the hallway, pushing open the door where Papa and Gina slept, he was going to make Papa promise that he got an extra scoop of ice cream today given that he didn't get any last night. The room was empty. Blankets all tucked perfectly into the corners, undisturbed, which was odd cause Papa moved around a lot in bed. He heard Regina behind him, far behind him, and when he turned around to ask where Papa was, the words dying in his throat seeing her cry again. Something was wrong, Papa wasn't here, and he didn't know why-

"I miss him." Regina's voice pulls him out of the memory, shaky and quiet as he finds her eyes again, watching him carefully with a new lining of tears.

He gives in, mumbling against the thickness in his throat, "Me too." Swallowing hard against the lump that threatens to rip him open. The diner is quiet now, the morning rush having filed out the door without him even noticing, and it's just them now. Sitting across a small circular table, not more than twelve inches between them physically, but an ocean thrashing emotionally. He'd come for answers. Needed to know all the  _why_ s and  _what-for_ s _,_  the reasons behind everything, why he is alone, why no one came looking for him, why he has grown up with this pit of bitterness eating away at his soul. He seeks explanation, demands resolution.

Stealing his nerves and forcing back the urge to run again, he does what he came to do, "I don't even know what actually happened. No one would tell me."

Her heart clenches, a flicker of rage bubbling inside at the Merry Men. They took him away, they left without saying goodbye, and for a while she figured it was for the best, they would tell him about his father, keep his memory alive, explain just how much of a hero Robin truly was. Apparently that didn't happen. And she burns for him. These memories have been locked away for so long, pandora's box she refuses to open. But anguish hugs him like a vice grip, the underbelly of rage flicking about his eyes, he's not the boy she lost, and that is her fault. He deserves to know, to understand, to find some closure from the mess of a life fate dealt him, dealt them both.

"Do you want to know?"

Half of her hopes he will say no, the wound in her heart over the memory of that day already beginning to gape and trickle out savagely hot burning blood. It's easier to turn a blind eye, pretend it didn't happen, create an illusion of life where the demons in the night don't run wild.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," He says, quietly, thumbing a hangnail at the corner of his finger, grimacing at the sting when the skin pulls a bit too deep. He does want to know, needs too. Is absolutely certain, through the full on battling in his gut of anxious trepidation.

And then she says, "It's my fault he died."

His stomach drops.

Her eyes lock onto his, and her whole body tenses. She tries to hide it in the thick black wool coat hanging despairingly from her slouched shoulders, but it's there. Staring glaringly at him.

"What do you mean?" He leans a little closer, and she nods before staring down into the mug of long-cold coffee, eyes shining in its reflection.

"I could have protected him, but I— I froze." She tilts her head up and her eyes lock with his as she says, "And then he was just gone." Her lower lip trembles on the last word that echoes out sadly.

He's stunned, staring at her in disbelief as she shrinks into the chair, holding her mug so tight he wonders if the ceramic is about to crack and shatter in her palm.

"You could have saved him?" The question hangs between them, thick and suffocating. Never once in his time wandering about the Enchanted Forest alone, did the thought cross his mind that Regina could have stopped it all. She chokes out a  _yes_ , shame flooding her eyes as she waits for his violent reaction over the fact he lost his father because she got scared and panicked.

He came for answers, not expecting this, but there is a story he needs to hear, and she needs to give him. The pain etched across her face wrenches his heart, maybe this will be good for both of them, maybe together they can erase the uncertainty, the anger and the anguish. She slides her empty mug away, exhaling a heavy breath, opening herself up for his onslaught.

He never meant to cause her more pain.

Slowly ebbing his hands out of his gloves, and tucking them into his pocket, his hand shakes slightly as he moves them across the glass table top, not quite touching her palm, but close enough he brushes the tips of her fingers. The first contact he has willingly made with her despite the war that rattles inside of him.

"Tell me."


	5. Part 5

He hadn't actually believed it when his mom told him who was back. Had stood stunned in the kitchen, heart dropping into his stomach at the mention of his long lost brother's name, a name he never thought he'd get a chance to hear again, let alone see his face.

It's been eighteen years, and there hasn't been a day gone by where he doesn't miss them both, terribly. Sure, life goes on, the sun still rises and sets everyday, uncaring as the to torment the hours in between leave behind, and their life continued, fractured in an irreparable way, damaged beyond fixing, but it did. He grew up knowing there should be two more plates at dinner, more stockings at christmas above the fireplace, more memories and milestones to be shared, but there wasn't any of that. For years he'd watched his mother slowly turn inward, hide from the world, a fraction of the person she once was.

It's better now, with Maleficent, not the same, but better. The dragon fills at least a part of the hole in his mother's heart, and she smiles more now, laughs a little more frequently, will even venture occasionally to Granny's if he begs her to. But this time of the year is always exceptionally hard, no matter the time that has passed, it doesn't get easier, knowing what they both lost. He feels the void, even today.

And while there is a plethora of male companions he can go to for advice, it's not quite the same, he's constantly left wondering what Robin would have told him, what words of wisdom, experiences and fatherly information he would have bestowed. Like how to muster up the courage to ask Violet out on a first date, or decide which university program was best, sneaking his first beer, how to fasten a tie, the necessities of wooing his lady love good and proper, what to do when things seemed to crash around him, how to make his mother smile when the world seemed to dark and dismal...he needed help, all these years, especially with that last thought.

Even Roland, that relationship he missed, terribly so. A younger brother to teach the ropes and ways of growing up. Being a confidant, a mentor, a brother to the enth degree. They could have had nights of hushed whispers under blankets while reading another story when they were supposed to be sleeping, learning how to shoot a bow and arrow together, Henry being the protector when kids at school decided to be bullies to his younger sibling. He could have taught him how to ride a bike, and figure out where Regina hid their christmas presents, proved that no matter what, he would always be there for him.

Neither situation got to play out. Was brutally taken from him in a matter of minutes, and left a family torn apart without even a band-aid to help it heal.

But the mention of his name, has Henry's heart doubling over, that small once dead flicker of hope reigniting in the pit of his stomach. And yet... she doesn't seem happy, or maybe that's not the word. Pained? In turmoil over it? Which is odd, because he is nearly bouncing on his feet at the thought of seeing Roland again, buzzing in excitement, a complete opposite to how Regina simply stares down into a cold cup of milky chamomile tea, eyes glazed over, head hung low, shoulders slouched.

He knows she blames herself for what happened, shouldn't, but does. There was no way any of this was her fault. Regardless of what other's might whisper, she has no part in the blame for what conspired in those three days. People can be cruel in their judgements. Talk too loudly over breakfast and what she  _could have done,_ or  _should have done._

But the difference is, they weren't there, staring actual death in the face, frozen to the spot, a half second too late before Robin had moved in the way, saving her like he always had. He'd love to see what they would have done, pretending to be all cool headed and confident minded, pathetic inconsiderate idiots. Regardless of how many times the real, genuine people in her life have promised it wasn't her fault, he still see's the uncomfortable guilt that clouds her eyes.

"So, how is he?"

Regina sighs, brushing back a lock of hair as Mal smoothes a palm across her back, gently kissing the crown of her head. "He's so angry with me."

"Why? He shouldn't be. You had nothing to do with what happened Mom!"

"Henry—"

"No, Mom. It's totally unfair to—"

"It's completely fair."

"What?"

"I was there when Robin died. I put him in that situation. I could have gotten us out of there."

"Mom, no. It wasn't your fault."

"I appreciate you saying that, but Roland still has a lot of anger, rightfully so."

They go silent, Regina shifting her cold tea away, Mal taking it with a sad smile and turning it down the sink, watching as the milky liquid seeps down the drain. They'd been doing well. Really well. But now, now she can barely get Regina to sleep for more than an hour, had to beg her to eat even a single meal or take a minute to breathe and assess what is happening, the sudden splitting of old wounds, bared fresh and raw.

All three of them know, most of the town does in fact, is privy to just how hard Regina tried to get her family back, to bring Robin back, because dammit if Hook, the one handed idiot pirate could escape Hell why couldn't Robin, good hearted, pure and true Robin come back from wherever he is?. It was a heavy, dark sentiment that hung over Storybrooke as they watched their mayor, their once fearsome, unbreakable Queen, beg to the highest heavens through tears, nearly dying in violent swirls of magic, as she promised parts of her soul and heart if they could just bring them back.

Eighteen years later, they still hadn't answered.

The dragon sighs heavily, wishing there was something more she could do, something they haven't tried, an untapped magical source that could break the rules of life, just so she could see her love smile that smile again. The one that is locked away, peaking through in shy moments but running quickly back to its cage in the recesses of Regina's heart.

"I could talk to him."

Their eyes meet, shock versus certainty matching one another. Her heart skips a beat at the look of pure conviction in his hazel eyes, she swells, glows with pride at her little boy, not so little anymore, the fierce belief in her, and her happy ending, intangible or not. Her son has been one of the few to still hold the candle of hope for her, even if the wax drips to the floor and the barely there wick, so short now, nearly burns his fingers with dying flame, he holds it.

"You don't have to, Henry."

He smiles, shifts his chair across the tiled kitchen floor, reaching across dark hickory dining table, linking their hands together, "You forget, he wasn't just your son, he was also my brother." Regina nods, swallowing the burning lump in her chest, blocking her ability to take a real true breath. She knows he's right, and if she opens her mouth, the lump with burst and she will cry, again, so instead she simply nods, hoping he understands, and he does, she knows he does.

They bid each other goodbye at the door, a hug from the Dragon, one that has Regina's heart swelling over their relationship, and another for her, tight and filled with promise as he kisses her cheek, vowing to see her later for dinner so long as she is still making lasagna. She chuckles, hugs him one more time because a mother is allowed seconds, she tells him she loves him, he reciprocates with a quick kiss on her cheek and the door closes, shutting out the cold air, leaving her home feeling colder still.

.

..

…

..

.

He sees him sitting on the bench, knees bouncing sporadically as the snow puffs about his boots. He looks the same, bigger, obviously, filled out like a grown man, and Henry pauses at the fact that this person, his brother, isn't the same boy he lost so long ago. Time changes people, and not always for the better. It's with hopeful hesitation Henry trails forward, tugging his scarf around his neck as the snow swirls from the sky, it's going to be a white christmas this year, that there is no doubt.

"Is this spot taken?"

Roland freezes, turning slowly to see Henry grinning down at him, and his heart burns as he looks into hazel eyes. It's not really anger that floods through him, but pain, bitter pain. Brothers are supposed to protect one another, be there when the boogey man threatens to come out of the closet, save each other from monsters under the bed, be tied together in a way no one else is. Regina told him Henry would want to see him, not that he really believed her anyway, but here he is, not really knowing what to say, though his body shifts over to the left slightly, leaving some room for Henry to squeeze beside.

It's quiet for a few minutes, Henry arching back into the bench, tugging his scarf around his neck, both watching the snowflakes gracefully float through the sky, landing on the peaks of the playground's tops, lining the slide, slick and wet, and coating the swingset on the far side.

"I remember skipping lunch to come here." He sighs heavy, "Before the first curse broke. I'd sneak off and just sit on the swings till night fell."

"Why?"

Henry shrugs, itching his nose, "Well, some stupid kid at school asked where my dad was, and I didn't know, and then they asked why I didn't look like my mom, er- like Regina. It messed with me." Their breath puffs out in unison as Roland watches his brother- his used to be brother- whatever, he watches Henry's eyes slip down, it doesn't pass his notice just how much older he looks, no longer a teenager, scrawny and yet to fill out, but a grown man, thicker jaw line, a slight five o'clock shadow, and it makes sense, if he does the math. Henry was 15 when papa died, he's nearly 33 now, with a wife and job, a family, something Roland himself clearly doesn't have. A pulse of envy bubbles deep in his gut as he adjusts his own coat, irritated at the tattered state and small patches on it that suddenly appear glaringly obvious compared to Henry's tightly woven, impeccably fitted navy blue peacoat. Just another thing he was denied growing up alone in the Enchanted Forest.

"I asked Regina about my dad and she froze, I remember the look in her eyes, the absolute fear in them when I asked why I didn't look like her or have a father like all the other kids."

"I take it that's when you found out you were adopted."

"And all hell broke loose. Yeah." He chuckles sadly, "I had just gotten the storybook from Mary Margaret and everything suddenly got confusing. I pulled away from Regina, was so angry at her all the time, I felt like she didn't love me, she couldn't, the Evil Queen couldn't love anyone. I thought I was going crazy, at 10, had all this nonsense in my mind that felt like it made sense, by it was impossible, fairytales didn't exist."

"No they sure don't...at least not the kind you read at night before bed, everything ending in a happily ever after."

Henry stills at the iron in Roland's tone, the stone etched pain echoing across his face, and his heart sinks. His brother, long lost and found again, honestly doesn't believe in happy endings anymore. Gone is the effervescent bubbly nature that flowed through a young boy, the one who dreamed of becoming an outlaw, saving fair maidens, and fighting off dragons. There is no more wanderlust for adventure in the dark moody brown eyes anymore.

"Do you ever regret it?"

"What?"

"Going to find Emma?"

Henry frowns, because in truth there had been times where maybe regret wasn't the right word, but guilt perhaps, for when Emma came into the picture, Regina was thrown out, for a long time, has been left with wounds that still bleed from time to time.

"Yes and no." He swallows, trying to figure out how to best explain something he doesn't exactly understand completely himself yet, and may never. "I don't regret going to find Emma, but I regret how certain things played out because I brought her here to break the curse."

"What do you mean?"

He shuffles, brushing off a layer of snow on his pants, puffing out a heavy breath, this wasn't exactly the conversation he'd planned for when he sought Roland out. "If I never found Emma, if I had just learned to accept that I was adopted, there is always a small part of me that wonders if I could have spared Regina a lot of pain, maybe she and I could have been honestly happy just with it being the two of us."

"What about the storybook?"

"I was 10, I figure eventually I would have grown out of it and moved on."

"But then you wouldn't have your family."

"True, I wouldn't have  _this_  family, but maybe I would have had another."

They both go still, opting to stare out into the distance instead of looking into the sad entity of one another.

"Sometimes I wish you hadn't either."

Henry arches an eyebrow in question, but waits, watches as Roland tugs on a hole in his glove, he'll have to grab him a new pair at some point soon. "If you hadn't gone to find Emma, I might still have my dad."

It takes him a minute to connect the dots, how one decision he made when he was just 10, had so drastically influenced the life of another he'd yet to know, but it's there, in a thin finite glimmering thread he follows, the connection is apparent. Had he not found Emma, there would have been no curse breaking, no Neverland, no need to destroy Pan, no missing year, no Regina meeting Robin Hood and by default Roland, thus no love found between them all. Had he just chosen to love Regina all those years ago and be okay give up on fairy tales, maybe Roland would still have his father. It's a sour pit in his stomach. He  _had_ to find Emma. But suddenly, the results of his actions seem a bit too ugly now that they stare him right in the face, a sentiment his adoptive mothers once spat at his birth mother, taking action without thinking of the consequences, and those who get hurt and left behind in the wake.

"I don't blame you." Roland sighs, running his gloved hand over his face, scowling at their tattered state, thread tugged apart, gaping holes that let in the foul cold, "But sometimes I just wonder," He swallows hard, frowning at the snowflakes that fall, "If the good times were really worth going through the bad." Roland winces as he bites down on his lower lip, and Henry tenses at the expression. For a moment, he looked just like Robin, the same distant pained dancing across his face, one Henry had seen in the quiet moments, usually with Regina already fallen asleep on Robin's chest, his step father silently staring out the window as his fingers carded through her hair, with  _that_ look, the one he has come to understand as fear. Fear for what has already been taken unfairly, and what could still be torn apart, fear of not living up to a promise of never leaving again when the world can be so unkind. The memory burn hots in Henry's gut, how the usual bright blue had clouded over, slinking into a dark stormy grey, the desperate need to protect the same person, though from who was still unknown. Robin promised to do better by her, Henry still stiffened in defence of a broken heart he knew wasn't quite healed yet. They'd let it all go, one night in Camelot, had broken down the barrier, vowed that together, they would protect Regina.

"I had a family,  _we_  were a family, and then it was just gone." The defeated whisper tugs Henry back from the memory, shoulders slouch in unison, the need for a stiff whiskey incredibly apparent, as both men, no longer boys, try to swallow the taste of loss.

"And I can't help but think, every time you were taken away, or separated from Regina, she tried to find you, didn't stop holding onto you, even if it was just fractions of you, at least she tried."

Roland's heart hammers hard in his chest, the pang of jealously ricocheting around, as he shifts, disturbing the snow on the bench, biting back the green monster inside while sitting next to the child that was worth the fight to get back echoes about him, resonating deep in the crevasses inside. What was so special about Henry that he didn't have, or wasn't worth. Everyone knew Regina would walk through fire and hell to get Henry back, but Roland… well for a woman who claims to have missed him  _so much it tore her apart,_ as she had put it back at the diner, it still sank like a brick, one child was good enough and one simply wasn't, words be damned, actions always speak louder.

They sit, side by side, quietly contemplating the next move. Henry can tell Roland is tense, ready to run, his knee has yet to cease bouncing up and down, and the hole in his glove has grown twice in size. He's honestly not really sure how to navigate these waters. Sure, he's dealt with painful loss, but this hits so close to home, iron branded burn in the meat of his heart, he feels disconcertingly caught between consoling a lost brother, and defending a grieving mother.

She didn't mean for it to happen, for her entire world to come crumbling down within a matter of seconds. Seconds that have replayed over and over in her mind for hours on end, the torturous continuing stream of  _what if's_ , and  _why didn't you's_. It took the town quite sometime to come to that realization, that in the end, magic be damned, Regina is still just a person, and sometimes the unthinkable can happen even to the most resilient of people.

"You know Roland, she did try." He shakes his head sadly, knowing the scars from magic that now lace her heart and soul, "For years. Harder than you probably even understand." They fall back into a quiet silence, and though it may not be his story to truly tell, this fracture between his mother and brother isn't going to be solved if either party are too afraid to ask the hard questions and hear the even worse answers. "I think that you should talk to her."

"I did."

"What did she tell you?"

Roland shuffles, making little footprinted snow angels in the ground, which makes Henry smile, because it's there, hidden deep down, the wonderment of a young boy, trapped inside the hollow bitterness of a grown man.

"She said that my dad died trying to save her from Hades." Henry nods, cause it's true, and sits muted. "She said that she made a mistake in the underworld giving my sister to that woman, and when they got home, she'd given her to Hades, and then Regina and Dad went to go save her." It doesn't pass Henry the unmention of Zelena's name, understandable given everything she took from him, the lies, the terror, the death. "Hades went to use the Olympian Crystal on Regina, and Dad jumped in the way."

His heart burns at the thought, that without even thinking his Papa made a snap decision that would ruin Roland's life effectively. The pit in his stomach scorches, eats away at the small dim nuggets of hope, swallows them whole. How dare he! How dare he just not think and leave him behind. It's not fair. None of it is fair. Papa should have been thinking about what he was doing, stepping in front of that crystal. But he didn't, and once again the actions lead to the worst, most heartbreaking consequences.

Henry can feel it too. The anger that radiates from the other man. The dark painted scowl that blows through dark brown eyes, devastating, overwhelming feeling of being lost, forgotten, unloved. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to have birthdays, and Christmases together. Spend summers out by a lake camping, learning how to shoot bow and arrows, roast smores, go on trips, have lazy sunday's in pajamas watching cartoons and stuffing themselves on pancakes.

"I know it's not the same, and I never want to take anything from you," Henry clears his throat, tugging his coat back around his shoulders as he stands, "but I hope you realize that I lost a dad too that day, a second dad, one that had actually been in my life for more than a few days." Their eyes meet, and Henry passes a small sad smile, "We both lost parents that day, and not just a dad."

It's with that Henry turns, patting Roland on the shoulder as he stares off into the distance, frown lines hard set against the chill of winter, and Roland waits, listens to each and every step Henry takes away, till the rumble of a car engine sounds and the forest around him finally goes quiet once more.  _We both lost parents that day, and not just a dad…._ For whatever reason, Henry's parting burns hot in his stomach. He lost a mom and a dad, Henry lost a step-dad, how was that even the same? It's not, he has no right to compare them. Where he was allowed to stay, live in the mansion, with Regina, with a mother, and feel loved, and wanted, the same certainly didn't go for Roland. The Merry Men did their best, sure, but it's not the same as a mother, as the constant affection he'd come to know under Regina's love.

She chose Henry, not him.

And yet...the way Henry said it,  _not just a dad…_  it's just off, the tone in his voice a distant and fractured, pained distress coating each decibel, maybe something happened with Regina, after losing Papa? Perhaps his resentment was clouding his judgement, voiding another layer, a more important layer of her's, he'd been blind too. He know's they were  _soulmates_ , has heard the tale from many parties, Regina and Papa included, and maybe that's it, the piece he can't seem to grasp just yet, maybe losing a soulmate damages the survivor irreparably, maybe she couldn't come find him.

"My guess is that she didn't tell you about the state of her heart now."

Roland frowns, turning to Henry who stares out into the distance sadly. She hadn't. He had gotten up and left before she could. It was too much, hearing how Papa died. He didn't want to know anymore. He'd stormed out of the diner, leaving her with watery red tear stained eyes and a cold coffee.

"You should ask her."

"Why?"

"I think you'd understand better. And I think, if you really know the truth of just how hard she tried, what she has given up, the prices she has paid trying to get you both back, I honestly believe it will bring you both some needed healing."

Henry stands, patting Roland on the shoulder, wishing to the highest of heavens that it could bring him some sense of security, though he knows until his brother knows the whole sad truth, that desperate feeling of safety will never wrap its arms around him again.

"You should come to dinner tonight."

.

..

…

..

.

The mansion is quiet, as usual, the light acoustic melody playing in the background, bouncing off the walls that don't hear much happiness normally. Mal is in the kitchen, flicking her gaze between the pasta sauce, bubbling merrily away on the stove, and Regina who stares miserably down at the second mug of tea, now gone frigidly cold. She barely saw her love when the front door closed early in the afternoon.

They'd talked about Roland all night, Mal finally convincing Regina to go back and find him, she wouldn't heal the bleeding wounds without doing so. But now, it seems as though those lesions have only cratered further, tugging the brunette down a dark spiralling hole. Even Henry, who had come home earlier hasn't really been able to rouse her out of the despairing state she is in.

"You need any help Mal?"

"I'm good, thanks Henry. Why don't you get your mom a glass of wine, and set the table." She wipes her hands on the purple apron, one she had absolutely refused to wear a few years back. Funny how things can change. "I'm almost done here anyway."

He nods, grabs the bottle from the liquor rack and four glasses, the addition has Mal's eyebrow cocking at the young man, who simply shrugs, sheepishly smiles as he looks towards his mom twirling her spoon in the cold tea, "I'm hoping."

"Me too."

It's nice. Dinner. Mal and Henry do everything they can to get Regina to talk. Pulling her into the conversation about where Henry and Violet are planning for a summer trip. He is thinking Amsterdam, his wife would prefer the south of Italy. He will go wherever she wants really, is happy to just spend time with his girl exploring.

"I've always wanted to see Romania." Mal quips through a gulp of wine, "They have some pretty impressive history."

"Dragons and Vampires?" Henry jabs back, chucking as Mal rolls her blue eyes, shrugging it off with a wave of her hand. "What about you Regina?"

"What?"

She reaches across the table, lacing her fingers into Regina's who frowns at the both of them, her mind clearly somewhere else, with someone else, and it makes Mal's heart ache. "If you could go on vacation anywhere, where would you choose?"

"Oh. Uh. I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

They grow quiet, Henry forking another mouthful of roasted pepper linguini, and he has to hand it to the dragon, her cooking skills, while usually on the spicier side, is actually quite impressive. Regina doesn't really cook that much anymore. Does when no one is home, he is quite frequently granted with her leftovers, but he's rarely gotten the opportunity to watch her in the kitchen. It's another sore spot. She was teaching Robin to cook, before he died. They'd spend hours there, covered in sauces and doughs, his bewildered uncertainty at most of the appliances had Regina laughing that sweet pure sound Henry so solemnly gets to hear anymore. The toaster was a complete no for Robin, who'd claim it was unnatural, though they all knew the contraption had scared the piss out of him one morning, he'd never touched the thing since.

"What about Australia?"

"Oh, the warm weather and beaches. Good one. Or maybe Egypt."

"Rome?"

"Costa Rica?"

The two of them go back and forth for a few minutes, debating where the best spots would be, where had the most culture, the greatest food, most spectacular landscapes, both deciding that a beach was a necessity, given the frigid cold winters Maine always is thrust into, the thought of hot sun and warm sand a definite must.

"Jasper."

The word is so low, they both nearly miss it, but Regina sighs, runs her hand through her hair, lets her fork clink down onto her plate as she reaches for her wine, letting the dark red liquid swirl a few times before she takes a grateful sip.

"Like Jasper, Canada?" Henry questions, not really knowing why she'd pick there of all places.

She nods, licks her lips and lets her eyes roam to a photo he knows it right behind him. A picture Mary Margaret had captured one day, his mom and Robin wrapped up in each other's arms, her forehead resting on his chest, a quiet moment of peace frozen in time, surrounded by the forest in Camelot, thick full tree's covering the skies, if looked at closely, her smile is visible, happily buried underneath a curtain of hair, Robin's own breathed into her head. It's one of the only pictures they have together.

"He had mentioned one time that the landscape here was abysmal compared to the Enchanted Forest, and he missed it." She swallows thick, sniffing the onslaught of tears that burn the backs of her eyes. "I bought him a book, uh,  _The Top 10 Forests in the World._ He probably read it a good ten times before deciding he wanted to see Jasper National Park." Her smile is feeble, melted away by the tremble in her lower lip, the pain palpable in the dining room.

"Maybe we could still go?" Henry shifts, reaching across the oak table to grab her hand, holding her slender palm tight in his own. How small is mother truly is, hasn't ever really escaped him. This quote on quote All powerful, mightier than thou, wielder of dark and light magic, is really nothing but his compact mom. Can gain some serious respect in a well tailored suit and high manicured arched eyebrow, but he can fold her into his arms like a child, The Great and Mighty Queen.

"I don't know. Maybe." She replies completely non-committal, knowing it won't actually ever happen, because she couldn't go without him. It wouldn't be impossible to walk through the evergreen without his hand locked into hers. Can't fathom the thought of sitting around a campfire at night, counting constellations without his warm timber voice nestled into her ear. It just wouldn't be right without him.

The talk a little while longer, mulling over what to do for the weekend, Christmas is coming, the town is preparing its annual holiday fair, one Regina makes a single Mayoral attendance to, and then retreats back to the house where decorations are sparse. A knock at the door, breaks their conversation, and the recoil in Regina's shoulders is visible, her hands tightening around the near empty wine glass. Henry stands, waving her movement to answer it, and jogs lightly to the door.

It leaves Mal and Regina at the table alone for a moment, a sweet kiss pressed into the brunette's temple, "We can always go to Jasper if you want, you know that right?".

"I know. I just…"

"I know. Whenever you're ready." Maleficent kisses her love one more time, and settles back into the wooden chair, and her heart skips a beat when Henry walks back into the dining room, grinning from ear to ear, and it seems his hope has won out.

"Is there an extra plate?"

Regina spins, jaw dropping, soul jolting as both, not just one, but both her boys stand around the table. She finds his eyes, timid and scared, and yet they hold strong, and something long forgotten flickers in the bottom of her heart when his dimples flash quickly through a hesitant smile. Mal nods, conjures up a quick plate, and Roland saddles beside Regina, not once looking at the meal in front of him, just only at her.

"Smells good."

"Mal is quite the chef these days." Henry chuckles, sending a wink towards the Dragon.

"You don't happen to have some more wine do you?"

It takes Regina a second, as her hands shake grabbing the second bottle, hovering it above his empty glass, and there is a hundreds things she wants to say to him, a thousand more she needs to tell him, and yet, the only thing that escapes her has the entire table bubbling over in laughter as she questions out "Are you old enough to drink?" The mother in her flourishing for a half beat before she realizes what she just did, flushes with embarrassment, and hands Roland the bottle, who pours himself a glass.

And she can't stop staring at him, at her family who sitting at her table, the pulsating in her heart erratic, ricocheting about her chest as she listens to Henry ask Roland where he'd go on vacation if he could pick. His answer "I dunno, but here seems like a good start." flooding Regina's eyes with fresh tears she desperately tries to blink away, but his hand grabs hers, under the table, laces them together and squeezes tight. She holds onto him for dear life, fearing if they part she will float away, and she lets her gaze drift back to the last vacant seat at the oakwood dining table, one that sits deserted beside her, and it hurts, brutally so, but her hand is still locked into Roland's, and that puts the first bandaid on her broken heart.


	6. Part 6

Dinner is...nice. Quiet and somewhat strange at points, but it's the first time in quite some time she doesn't spend throwing silent glances at the empty chair beside her throughout the meal. There are spans of time that fall into awkward pauses, and words have seemed to fail her for the majority of the night, stuck in her throat behind the cemented lump that holds the emotional waterfall from cracking. Thank goodness for Henry and Mal, who seem more than happy to not let the elephant in the room get the better of them.

It started with mindless small talk. About nothing of real importance, but it helps put the entire table at ease. They've found out just how Roland found his way to Storybrooke. It appears Jefferson is behind most of it. The thought of the Hatter being involved is confusing to Regina. Irritating and enraging at points. He acquired Roland, so to speak, as his newest realm jumping partner, having him take things that were in the possession of others when the Hatter decided he wanted them for his own, needed them for reasons he never let on. It was Roland's way to pay for housing, food, and eventually his way back here. She can see the strange expression crossing his brown eyes as he relays the stories. Regret over it? Possibly. But there is something else. Something sad that resides deep down.

He became a thief.

The thought sparks something odd in her chest at memories of another thief. One who had stolen things that weren't always given to him honestly, all except for one. Her heart thumps in her chest, hard against her ribs, clawing painfully as she listens to Roland's stories. Noticeably, he is purposefully leaving out spaces of time. Moments she figures he'd rather not think back on. Most of them, however, revolve around the first few years back in the Enchanted Forest. His sudden change in home. Walking through a portal and being abruptly moved from a comfy bed and warm house back into the forest, on a cot, with nothing but the chilled wind smacking against canvas walls to keep him company at night.

She wants to ask why. Wants to understand the reason he barely mentions the Merry Men. A family that once was his entire world, but now remarks on with barely more than an uncomfortable shifting in his chair and obtusely apparent shift in conversation. Clearly something happened with them. It breaks her heart.

Swirling her wine in an attempt to keep her hands from fidgeting incessantly, she listens to how at sixteen he decided to leave the camp. Shrugs his shoulders when Henry asks how come, and by passes the question with a simple, "Just felt like I needed too." She watches the way her son's eyes crease and frown, feels Maleficent's gaze flick to her. They know it must be hard for her. To hear of his life alone when she was here desperately trying to find a way get him back.

She hasn't told him. Hasn't really figured out the best way to broach the subject of the current state with her heart. It may terrify him and she doesn't want that. But if it will help him understand that he wasn't forgotten. Wasn't someone she just simply let go without a second thought. Maybe he will be able to find some sense of internal peace with her.

She knows he is still angry, still harbours resentment over being abandoned. It's understandable. It's okay. That little spark of hope buried deep within still glows. How can it not? He is here. Sitting at her table. Eating dinner beside her. It may have taken eighteen years to get this back, and while it may not always be completely whole, it's far better than before. Even though the looming thought of an eighteen year death anniversary creeps closer each day, perhaps this year will be easier. The thought spreads a tingle of ease across her skin. Not quite reaching down into her core, but having hope on the surface is at least better than nothing.

"Anyone have room for dessert?"

Henry swigs the last gulp of his beer, reaching to clear everyone's plates as he stands. Mal passes, claiming she can't possibly eat another bite as she pats her rather taut, flat stomach. Regina rolls her eyes, chuckling lightly at the action.

"What?"

"We both know that come midnight you'll be down here for a plate."

"I don't snack."

"Oh Please, Mal" Henry joins in, passing her a dessert plate regardless of her initial no, "It's a fact you can't say no to mom's apple pie."

The dragon deadpans a stare at him, but grabs her fork anyway, ignoring the jibes sent her way. It's true, she can't ever honestly pass up pie. She's a glutton for it. Side eyes and chuckles be damned. One slice can't hurt.

"I should probably be going."

She stills, turning to find Roland slugging his coat on. The string that holds her together frays. He's the decisionmaker of his own choices. If he wants to leave, he can. Regardless of the urge she has to beg him to stay, it won't do them any good if she pushes too quickly.

"You sure? We could watch a movie or play cards or something." Henry is quick to reply, eyes filled with hope that Roland may stay. Apparently she isn't the only one not quite ready to say goodbye just yet.

She sees the hesitation in the younger man, the way his fingers fiddle with the rusted zipper. The way it struggles to close has her eyes frowning, and for the first time she truly does take in his appearance. The tatters in his jeans, frayed edges on a jacket that is patched to the enth degree, gloves that have too many holes to keep him warm, even his boots, the soles are cracked, laces broken and barely reaching the ruined leather top. It hits her harder than she anticipated. Listening to his life in the Enchanted Forest had been hard, but she hadn't even realized what it meant for him to live alone there. No money for new clothes, no house to walk home to and find dinner on the table. The idea that he had potentially been freezing and starving for lack of necessity has a hot line of tears skimming quickly into her lashes.

She failed him. Failed to protect him. To care for him. Love him. Be a mother he deserved. Self-loathing thunders into her blood, searingly hot, pumping violently in her heart and around her brain. How did she let this happen?

"Maybe next time." Roland shrugs, reaches his hand out to grasp Henry's, and for all the perfectness that is her son, it shines brighter as he hauls the other man into his arms, clapping a heavy hug on his back. It's his way. His own beautiful way to show security. She just hopes it isn't in vain. Not everything can be solved with an apology and a hug. Some things run much deeper than that.

She feels Mal's hand on her shoulder, pulling her back from the eternal self revulsion that begins to eat away at her once more. They stand, leaving plates of half consumed pie behind. The sight of her door grips her heart. If he leaves, walks out of her house, will he ever come back? Her feet stop moving, frozen solid into the hardwood below. Panic sets in. She can't lose him. Not again. The shaking of her hands trembles all the way up her spine as she watches him button up the rest of his coat, it's missing two buttons, barely closes, will barely keep the biting wind and snow out.

"Stay."

The words fall before she can stop them. She kicks herself because she promised she wouldn't push him. Shouldn't beg anything of him. But she can't let him walk out that door.

Confliction pours through his eyes as he stares back at her, clutching the worn tunic in his hands. He shouldn't stay. This isn't his home anymore. He doesn't want to be an imposition for her. Not when there are still so many questions gone unanswered. Not when he isn't actually certain he can sleep in the same house where there are far too many memories painted into the walls. How is he supposed to find peace when there are photos of him and his dad framed and staring at him.

"Yeah! Come on, Roland, we can make popcorn and watch a movie or something?" Henry chimes in, smiling hopefully from the stairway.

It takes him a second, thumbing over the thought of walking back to Granny's and laying on a not so comfortable spring mattress, or staying here. Staying with them. With her. Maybe he could do it.

"Just for the night."

The breath that claws at her lungs finally releases at his agreement to stay. A flush bruises through her heart. He is staying. She can keep him for a few more hours. Maybe it's all she will need. Enough time to convince him she didn't just let him go without a fight.

It could be her only chance.

.

..

…

..

.

She doesn't really watch the movie. Couldn't care less about committing her attention to a random group of mythical beings while they traverse across a realm to destroy a ring when she could be reveling in the moment of having both her boys sitting in her living room, munching happily on cinnamon popcorn as though nothing has changed. They are bigger, and no longer fit on the couch with her like they used to, but it's good enough.

The credits rolling and thunderous booming finale music are the only things that pull her back into reality, away from the carding of Mal's hands through her hair. She hums and sighs into the contact. It's nice to have someone.

"Well, I'm exhausted." Henry stretches, cracking his joints in one go as he sleepily smiles up at her. "Mom, mind if I crash here tonight?"

"As if I'd ever say no." She chuckles back, running a hand through his hair, relishing in the memories of doing it when he was so much shorter, just her little prince. He stands, presses a quick kiss to her cheek. "I'll make breakfast."

"Such a good son you are."

"Well you did raise me."

She smiles, beams in all reality, because it's true. She has raised an incredible boy who's grown into an even better man. Internally she pats herself on the back, job well done Regina. Below her, Roland shifts, running a large hand over his tired eyes.

"I can take the couch if that's alright with you."

She stills.

"Actually your room is still here if you want to sleep there." Henry chimes in.

Confusion clouds his mind,  _Why would she have kept his room? For eighteen years? Why just not decorate it? It's not like he was here anyway…_  He gapes open mouthed at Henry for a second. Trying to understand why, but there isn't much of an answer that comes, just a shy smile from Regina sitting on her couch. It's odd though. The couch. It's different from when he lived here.

It used to be cream colored. Soft and comfy. Not that she doesn't look comfy on the charcoal leather, but it's not the same. The one he remembers has memories of his dad strewn about each thread.

The four of them all crowded onto it, stuffed with popcorn bowls and ice cream between their legs, watching whatever cartoon fit their fancy. It has his dad in every thread. The soft warmth of his arms wrapped around Regina laying on his chest, their little giggles that escaped over the fact she could never stay awake for a whole movie. It has pillow forts built into it, caverns and caves they made with blankets, adventures created as they hid in the dark depths beneath soft textured coverings. It's where he used to come down late at night to find his Papa sitting with a drink in hand, the storybook propped up in his lap, a safety spot where he could bring his stuffed monkey and crawl in beside him, listen to the deep timbre of his voice reading stories of very real fairytales.

This couch has none of that. It has harder lines and cushions less giving. It doesn't seem to suit her. At least not the Regina he remembers.

Regina can see his mind rolling, the curious meandering behind sad eyes that flick back between the stairs and where she sits on the couch. It's probably odd for him, to have the option of sleeping in his old room. She hasn't touched it. Not a single pillow out of place. There is still a box of split crayons sitting on the floor, scattered between half colored pictures that were meant to adorn her fridge. After  _that_ day, she couldn't find it in herself to disrupt the room. It's her only physical reminder of what she once had and what was taken from her.

"There is a guest room as well if you'd rather that." She echoes quietly, smiling gently as he nods a mumbled thank you. The urge to follow her boys up the stairs rivals the voice in her brain telling her not to do it. They are grown men, they don't need to be tucked in and read bedtime stories until their eyes finally gave in and she could leave them with a forehead kiss. There is none of that anymore. Her heart clenches tightly. Painfully hot stitches that split open. She can feel it bleeding from the inside. Dripping like sizzling acid into her chest cavity. It burns. And she wants to cry.

The silence follows their footsteps as they bid her and Mal goodnight, engulfs her whole being even though Mal still sits beside her, running long fingernails down her back, soothing through irreparable pain that will always be there. "You ready for bed?"

"I think I'm going to stay here for a little while, but you go ahead."

"You sure?"

Regina nods, leans into the kiss Mal bestows on her cheek, the quiet whispered parting and then she too glides up the stairs, leaving Regina to a half drank glass of wine and empty popcorn bowls. Slowly, she cleans it up, battling each step forward with shaky knees that threaten to give out. The red liquor drains lazily down the sink, staining the steel momentarily. It looks like splattered blood. She wonders if it's a mirror into herself. Torn and bleeding, draining slowly into a dark abyss.

Her fingers flex against the stainless steel. Gripping white as she grits her teeth through the pain that grips her heart again. She knows he is right there, staring up at her inside the silver picture frame. Dimples on display, bright blue eyes beaming, his arms encircled around her blushing smile hidden by a curtain of longer dark chocolate hair.

She can't look at him, not now. Not when everything is so fragile inside. She reaches for the frame, turning it away from her though she clutches it to her chest and makes her way silently back to the couch.

She moved the other one into her own personal office. Barely uses it anymore. It just sits there beneath the patio window. Perfectly folded green wool blanket laying across the back. It's there when she needs it. Or rather when she can't find the strength to stand up anymore and curls into it with low hushed tears dropped onto the soft cream cushions.

Setting the frame face down on the glass table she sighs into the hard charcoal couch in the living room. Her mind wanders up to the two boys that sleep just above her. She hopes they can sleep. Wants nothing more than to check in on them. Make sure that the demons and monsters in the night haven't disturbed them. But she can't. So she sighs into the leather, curls a black blanket around her body and turns to face the window, watching the gentle swirling of snow outside.

She didn't go see Robin. It jars her. She's never missed a day. How could she forget? He is with her every single day, and yet she completely let it slip that she was supposed to go see him tonight. Guilt riddles her. She could go now. But her body aches. Tomorrow. She will spend extra time with him tomorrow. Will be able to tell him about Roland staying here, how nice it felt to have him beside her at dinner. Can seek silent advice on how to help his, no, not his, how to help  _their_  son heal. What words she can use to explain what happened. How does she fix it? She needs to fix it. Robin will know how. He always did.

She cringes as heat spikes into her heart again. It's crushing and suffocating. Bloody thing. Her hand shakes as she reaches up towards her chest. It's been awhile since she's done this. Ripped out the emotional steam engine from her body. It knifes her when her fingers curl about the organ, roars hot as she grips it tight and tugs, tearing it from her chest and through her skin. A tight anguished scream catches in her throat at the action, but cold dead relief fills the empty cavern quickly. She's thankful for it. For the reprieve. Maybe for tonight she can sleep soundly without thoughts of him or what lies ahead.

It's ugly. The red glow that peaks through black bleeding veins. Half a heart. Battered and bruised. A memoir of the things she has done, both good and bad. Evil and heroic. She doesn't feel heroic. The furthest thing from it in fact. The threaded gold shimmering strings that hold the pieces of her heart together through gaping holes is a reminder of that. She isn't good enough, didn't deserve it, didn't love hard enough, didn't try hard enough to have them back. Her heart is proof.

It thuds heavily onto the table beside the photo of her and Robin, drumming slowly against the vibrating glass. Maybe it will break the table and slice her heart open, let it all be done swiftly and quietly in her sleep. It should worry her. And yet it doesn't. There isn't much fight left for her to really care anymore. It's that sad solemn thought that carries her into sleep, and she prays to no one in particular that she does sleep.

.

..

…

..

.

He tosses and turns for the majority of the night. The blankets are too heavy, pinning him down into a mattress that is far too luxurious for him to be craving. The walls are too clean, the sound of wind whipping through shaky leaves muffled by paned glass windows. It feels false. Like he doesn't belong here. Most of the night he's stared up at the snow that falls gently. He can't sleep. It's more than apparent there isn't going to be a good night's rest found tonight.

Slowly, he draws the soft blankets away, bare feet hitting comfy carpet below as he stands and cracks open the door. A glass of water. Maybe that will help quench the dryness in his body. He passes by Henry's room, lingers for a second looking at the door just to the right of it. His old room. He hadn't even opened the door earlier. Decided that it would be too difficult to go inside and find everything that was stolen from him without asking. He doesn't want that. To sit and lay inside the memories of what once was.

He passes by it again.

A shiver licking his spine as Regina's bedroom door comes into view at the end of the hall. His father should be sleeping in there with her. He should be able to crack open the door and see them curled up into one another, be able to listen to the soft snores of his dad lulling Regina deeper into sleep. But it's not the case anymore. Someone else sleeps with her in there now.

He doesn't know really what to make of the Dragon. She is a shadow to Regina, lingering everywhere she goes, watchful blue eyes that smile, delicate hands that roam through brown hair. She seems different. Is quiet and thoughtful in her phrasing. Carefully constructing easy words that he can see Regina grip onto. They seem happy. Or content. He isn't really sure.

Padding quietly through the foyer the thought passes him that he could just grab his coat and leave. Without having to say any goodbyes and seeing her brown eyes shine with tears at the anticipation of his departure. He doesn't like seeing her cry. Kicks himself for making her do so in the diner yesterday.

He can't leave.

At least not in the dead of night without an explanation. Tomorrow, however, is a different story. He can leave tomorrow. Without asking the questions he desires the answers from. Can find the strength to simply walk out and go back to the Enchanted Forest and live his life in solitude. It may be easier that way. To not have to relive the past. His father is everywhere here. It's harder than he expected. Knowing of the life that used to chime through the mansion. Maybe it was a mistake coming back.

He makes his way to the kitchen, stilling when a dull red pulsating light glows from the living room. Frowning, he turns, forgetting the cold glass of water he came down for and makes his way silently to the other space. He freezes when he sees her. Sleeping soundly on the couch. Blanket barely covering her curled up torso. Even in sleep there is distress that lines her face. It strikes him as sad. She can't even sleep without torment.

His fingers ghost over her temple, brushing back the soft layers of hair that hide her eyes. She whimpers and the need to wake her blooms, but something else catches his eye first. It pulses on the table, a low drumming beat, small enough to fit in his palm as he cups it, a sparking tingles over his skin as his thumb runs over the dark veiny lines. It looks so sad. So small and feeble in his hands. Her heart. Treacherously thumping a blood merlot glow behind black iron bars. There are threads of gold that stitch the meaty, gaping flesh together. His own heart clenches as he turns hers over and nausea bubbles in his throat.

There are holes. Tiny little bullet spaces chunked out of her heart. The gold stitches laces over top of each deep crevasse. Something sticky coats his fingers as he thumbs about the wounds. It's like tar, but thinner, softened out molasses that stains his finger tips. It's bleeding. Her heart. Weeps from the lesions that speckle the tender organ. What catches his eye again though is not the anguished pain that clearly pulses from it, but the light glow where his fingertips touch. No matter where they move and trace, the silvery shimmer follows. And for the chill that runs up his spine, his hand feels warm hugging the small life in his hands. It feels like her. Soft edges, gentle glow, hard lined skin that hides the love inside.

Why would she take it out though? It can't be good for her. He's heard very few stories of the Evil Queen and her chamber of hearts. But he knows them nonetheless. Has even heard the tale of how a Queen willingly gave her heart to a thief. His Papa used to say that was the moment he knew something was different between them. He would cuddle Roland tight, though his eyes remained trained on Regina, as he explained the way his own heart had thunderously shook at the feeling of holding hers. How he knew that it was the moment he had started to fall in love (for the second time apparently, what with the missing year forgotten) with the Queen.

He liked hearing that story. Their story.

"You should ask her."

A low voice cracks the silence. He hadn't realized anyone else was down here, nor the fact he was currently sitting cross legged on the floor beside a still sleeping Regina. Blue eyes watch him carefully from the bottom of the stairs. Eyeing him up curiously, flicking down to the bruised heart in his hands. She seems more menacing from his sitting position. Her height obtusely apparent even without the staggering slim heels.

She cocks an eyebrow towards him as she steps forward, saddling herself into Regina's knook between her stomach and thighs, humming quietly as she brushes away the lock of hair Roland had wanted to move himself.

"This isn't easy on her either. I hope you are aware of that."

He shrugs, because he doesn't really understand why. He was the one abandoned. Not Regina. And yet, his eyes follow as Maleficent's hands turn over the sliver frame he'd yet to notice. The blonde woman smiles sadly, exhaling a quiet heavy breath as she shakes her head, turning the frame upright.

It's his dad. His Papa with arms strewn about Regina's chest, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. They look happy. He remembers that day. They'd just gotten home from Camelot, and his father prophetically decided that instead of dealing with another villain right away they all needed to escape for a night. Escape meaning camping on the outskirts of the Merry Men's site. They'd set up base at the bottom of the lake, had played in the water all afternoon. Robin had tried to teach Henry how to fish with his bare hands, not very well, but it didn't matter. It was warm, and he had felt so happy that day, squished between Regina's thighs in front of a warm tender fire, roasting marshmallows and hot dogs till his stomach felt as though it would burst. They'd sat there all night, watching the changing color of the sky from soft petal blue, into dark tangerine and mahogany reds, pointing out each new blossoming star as they listened to the rumbling in his Papa's voice as he sang till Roland had passed out. It had been a good day.

Regina whimpers, and her heart skips and flutters in his hands.

"Why does it look like this?" He frowns down, cradling it like the most precious piece of gold he'd ever stolen. Maleficent, for all her mystery, simply sighs, bites down on her lip and trains her eyes back to Regina.

"Magic isn't always kind."

"She did this to herself?"

"She was trying to get you and your father back."

Silence hangs heavily around them.

"I don't understand."

"There are certain spells that require far more from the creator than most are willing to part with."

"She gave up pieces of her heart?"

Mal nods, eyeing the bleeding vessel in Roland's hands. It's so fragile. There have been far too many times Maleficent had been panicked in finding her, feeling the violent pulses of magic in the air, knowing she was trying again to do the impossible, logic be damned. She wanted her family back, self inflicted pain wasn't exactly a thought. How many times had Maleficent found her love laying on the ground of her vault, or in the forest, her office, the townline, unconscious and barely alive?

She thanks the bookworm for having enough of a hold over the Dark One to help Maleficent stitch and piece back together the former Queen's heart time and time again. She knows though that Regina isn't strong enough to survive another attempt. One more time and she will lose her for good.

"I didn't know…" Roland trails off, blinking back the stunned tears lining his eyes. There is so much unknown still, but sitting in her living room, holding her tattered beat down heart, his anger is quietly waved over by a strange sense of sympathy. Maybe he's been too hard on her.

"She missed you both. And I want you to understand something." Mal cuts into his train of thought, her voice edged darkly, "She missed you, but she doesn't deserve to have her pain tossed back in her face again. I know you want answers, and if you ask her, she will tell you. But I will also say this to you." She shifts, effectively hiding Regina behind her like a barrier. "If you open wounds you aren't ready to help heal, I ask that you leave now and don't come back again."

She holds her hand out, and Roland drops Regina's heart into the Dragon's palm, watching as it momentarily pulses bright rose red. "Good night, Roland." Maleficent stands, twirling her fingers gently, rising Regina with an invisible thread before they both are swept up silently into a dark plum cloud, and he is left sitting on the living room floor, stunned at what he's just been told. More by what he has just seen, and by most of all, the fact that his father is still seemingly staring at him from the silver picture frame.

_I'll do better Papa. I promise._

TBC.


	7. Part 7

It's a bit hazy when she wakes up, but warm and comfy. Mal is definitely behind her breathing heavily in her sleep. How she got from the couch downstairs to her bed is uncertain. Henry possibly carried her? Or Mal and her magic. Either way she is grateful for the thick comforter hugging her body. It's saturday, which means there is nothing to do but sleep in. Pancakes. She should make Henry pancakes. Does she have strawberries? He likes them with his breakfast, and freshly squeezed orange juice. She could do that for him.

"You awake?" Mal's voice ghosts around her as her body slides closer, wrapping around Regina's midsection. She hums in response, curling tighter into her personal furnace. "I know you want to sleep, but I think you and Roland need to talk." Regina stills, blinking her eyes open, she forgot he was here, how on earth could she have forgotten that. "He found your heart."

Shit. Shit. Shit. That wasn't supposed to happen. She wanted to explain to him everything before he saw the state of her badly bruised organ. "He just wants to know what happened Regina." She blows out a guilty breath, nodding into her pillow, and perhaps today is going to be that day where she lets her wounds split open, and hopefully, oh god hopefully he understands. So much for a lazy weekend morning. Mal kisses her cheek, and Regina pushes the blanket off of her, swallows thickly and pads over to the bathroom, a hot shower definitely needed before this all goes down. She can hear Mal move from bed too, promising her a cup of coffee when she is ready.

Donning jeans, a green silk blouse and damp hair loosely hung about her shoulders she takes one last breath and heads down the stairs to where three voices are already awake. It's jarring, walking into the kitchen and seeing Roland there, sitting with a cup of coffee in his palms, a grey henley long sleeve tucked into dark denim jeans, a checkered green and black button up hanging softly open, an ensemble that clearly came from Henry's closet. Bless her boy and his pure heart of gold.

"Morning mom!" Henry turns, smiling brightly as a her mug he made her in the fourth grade extends out from his hands. She loves this mug. Cracks and all. Doesn't have it in her to magically fix the little leak that beads where the clay yellow handle attaches to the not quite cylindrical cup. It's bright blue, a shining orange sun painted on one side, a messy small handprint in red on the other. It's beautiful to her.

Gratefully she takes the coffee from him, presses a kiss to his bedhead hair, and saddles into a stool beside Roland who is smiling at her. A quiet  _morning_  passing his lips, and it is perfect. This is perfect. Sitting with her boys over morning coffee.

They talk about nothing really, it's mostly Henry that keeps the conversation going as Mal flips a pancake behind them, apparently Regina's cooking skills aren't needed. She listens to Henry explain his newest hardship at the school, the kids there aren't being exactly attentive with christmas breakfast approaching. It's becoming harder and harder for him to give a meaningful lesson about the ogre's war when everyone is chattering away about vacation plans.

"Why don't you just take them outside for a class?" Roland questions behind his mug. Henry hums, chews on the suggestion for a second. "Like let them play outside instead of learning?"

"Not necessarily. But from what I know of the ogre's war it extended through four winters, and soldiers had to fight in the snow. Maybe you could do like a reenactment of it or something?"

A smile breaks out on Regina's older boy's lips, as he pats his younger brother on the back. "That's a great idea Ro! Thanks."

"It's nothing."

"You know what, why don't you come with me one day?"

"Why?" Roland stiffens confused. But Henry is Henry and chuckles through Roland's sudden anxious questions. "Well they used swords, which I can kinda show them, but their main weapon against the ogres was a bow and arrow."

"You want me to teach them to shoot an arrow?"

"I don't know if the board would let me use actual arrows, but I'm sure we could fashion something less severe. What do you think?"

Regina watches from the side, flicking her gaze between a smiling hopeful Henry and the nervous twitch in Roland's hands. "You'd be great at it." She comments out quietly, shrugging her shoulders when Roland's eyes widen at her interjection.

"I...uh...I'll think about it."

"Great! Let me know."

Pancakes are served and they spend the rest of the morning with Maleficent regaling tales of her time through the ogre's war. How there had been king after king begging her to help, for with a dragon on their side, surely no foe could stand a chance. Regina snickers beside Mal who is beyond smug at the reaction she gains from both Henry and Roland. The dragon seems to forget that Regina was there, had spent many a fire lit night in Maleficent's castle as the woman badgered on about the fact she could take down the entire ogre's army with a simple spout of flame, but the kings deemed her too dangerous to request her skills. She hadn't set a single monster on fire, and the fact of the matter was beyond aggravating for the Dragon.

Regina stands, collects the plates and turns to the sink, letting their laughter hug her tight. In the middle of scrubbing a pan, Roland is suddenly beside her, looking out the window as he moves so they are shoulder to shoulder. He sighs heavy with a shake of his head. "Dad was the best at archery." She smiles small at that, because it's true, there was no arrow that could rival his own. He'd promised to teach Henry once Regina decided he was old enough to wield a bow….only to find out later they had already been practicing. The revelation on their guilty sheepish caught faces when she had starkly questions how her prized apple tree suddenly had cuts and marks in it. Robin had made it up to her later though, in many many ways.

"Yeah. He was incredible at it. Are you nervous about helping Henry?"

"I suppose. I am not as good as my dad was."

"He'd be proud of you regardless I'm certain."

Roland shrugs, a glassy look crossing his face as his eyes go hollow. "I'm not entirely sure of that." His confession hits Regina like a ton of bricks as she drops the pan quietly into the sudsy sink of warm water and reaches for Roland's hand, squeezing it gently as the bubbles run between their fingers. And he doesn't even flinch at her touch. Squeezes back if anything.

Her heart thunders in her chest as she looks up at him. He's grown so much. She just wishes she could have been there for him.

"We should talk."

"Mal told you about me finding your heart?"

"She did. And I'd like to take some time with just us to explain to everything I can to you."

He nods, "I'd like that. Can we go to his camp?"

She stills. Since Robin died she hasn't stepped foot where the Merry Men once resided. Every single tree there reminds her of him, of their time together. But this isn't about her and what she can or can't face. This is about Roland, and if he feels comfortable there, well she will simply have to put her own anxiety to the side for a few hours.

"Of course we can."

"Do you mind if I go alone first?"

"Not at all. I'll meet you there at noon?"

"Sure."

He leaves with one last squeeze to her palm and the moment she hears his footsteps fade and the front door close behind him, she lets her tears fill her eyes and fall into the cooling dish water.

"Are you alright?"

Mal steps in behind her, hands gently placed on her hips as she deposits a chaste kiss to Regina's damp cheek. Wiping away her tears she nods, mumbling out  _I'm fine_  as she turns to burying herself into her Dragon. But Mal stops her before she can find safety. Tips her chin up and chuckles, "You have bubbles on your face."

For all the nervousness that is firing up Regina's spine, she laughs, let's Mal wipe away the remnants of dish washing from her cheeks and leans into a kiss. "You're doing the right thing Regina."

"I hope so."

.

..

…

..

.

When he walks into the Merry Men's camp it's like walking into a ghost house. There are still a few strung up tents tied to thick pine trees he remembers one being Tuck's, another Alan's and the last, his father's. He walks slowly up to the green canvas homes, struggling to not sink to his knees at the sight of the broken down fire pit they all used to sit around. For all the anger he had towards them, for taking him away from Regina, for not really explaining what happened to his father, it's bittersweet to sit down on the large oak log and take in the home he used to have so long ago.

The snow puffs about his shuffling feet in the dirt, the bark of the frozen tree chilling his skin through the denim trousers he borrowed from Henry. Even his breath is like a smoking cloud that dissolves into the cold air. There isn't much warmth here anymore, not like there used to be. This place always had life to it. A song that sang loudly between the trees. It's just silent now.

Frowning at the spiking chill in his fingers, he kneels next to the crumbled firepit, arranging the stone blocks back into something that resembles a half decent circle. Brushing off some twigs, he tips them up, like a teepee his dad used to say, you have to make a home for the fire or else it won't burn properly. Grabbing some sodden mulch he piles it in between the branches and digs for his matches.

The first two don't do much, it's too wet to start. Grumbling he tries again, eliciting a bit of smoke this time, but it's not going to grow into anything. He turns to try and locate something half dry, a pile of leaves in the far corner underneath the coverage of tree's could possibly provide something half decent.

"Need a light?"

He swirls on the spot at her voice, finding her standing in a thick wool coat and green scarf tied around her neck at the edge of the camp. She looks scared to be here. And he wonders why. Perhaps it too brings back painful memories. He shrugs and glowers at the pitiful wisp of smoke curling from his little attempt at a fire. "Everything is wet. I can't get it to start."

He watches they way she hesitates at the clearings edge, her eyes flicking to Robin's tent to their right, a sad expression painting her face below the mask he knows she wears. He promised to do better for his dad. After seeing her heart, he knew that he had been cruel in where he placed his blame on her. His boots crunch the leaves below as he walks up to her, extending a hand she looks down at before lacing her fingers into it. "It's weird being here isn't it."

She nods, smiles but her eyes flush with wetness. Maybe he should have just suggested they talk at her manor. Somewhere she felt more at ease. "I haven't been here since he died."

"I remember you coming here to tell me."

"You do?"

Her eyes are wide and fearful as he nods morosely, exhaling a dismally sad breath. "I don't think I understood what was going on to be honest. I just remember you crying and no one saying anything and my dad not being there."

"I'm sorry." She whispers out guilt ridden. She should have been stronger for him. He lost his dad and she had simply sobbed as a little boy of five had hugged her tight and told her it would all be okay.

"Don't be. I lost my dad. But you lost him too."

He squeezes her gloved and slowly walks them back to the firepit, letting Regina sit on the blanket she quickly produces to keep their legs from freezing on the rock solid cold tree trunk. Watching as her hand twirls gently and a solid high flame consumes his little teepee of twigs, he finally lets a heavy breath go, thanks her quietly and sits down beside her, both their eyes trained into the flames.

It beautiful in the winter here, she's always loved the way the air sparkles with frost, trees hang heavy and low with packed crystal white snow, everything having this ethereal look to it, as though if you breath too heavy it will all crack and fall apart. Tugging her coat around her tighter, she leans into Roland's shoulder, being able to vaguely hear the beating of his heart, strong and steady.

They can't sit here forever though. And she can't avoid the green canvas tent behind her that once upon a time she spent many many nights within, tucked into a warm body who peppered her with affection.

"Can you tell me what happened? What  _really_  happened that night?" His voice is somber and sad, breaking the quiet of the forest around them. Her heart jumps anxiously at the memory as she closes her eyes and breathes out a heavy heavy breath.

"When we were in the Underworld you dad stayed with your sister in the forest while we tried to find Hook."

"Why was she even down there?"

"Belle was watching her and Neal here in Storybrooke, and Zelena masqueraded as the Blue Fairy and I guess something went wrong and your sister, mine, and Belle were sucked into the portal there."

"Zelena doesn't seem like a very smart mother. Surely that wasn't any place for a child. It's why I didn't go with you and dad."

"No. She wasn't at the time. But love can make you do some strange things."

He huffs, frowns at the fuzzy memories of a little baby in pink he'd been introduced to briefly. They hadn't honestly had much interaction before everything went sideways. He doesn't even know her name.

"Anyway. We got your sister back and then I made the mistake of thinking I could trust Zelena's judgement. She believed Hades had changed for love. Your father was furious with me when I asked him to trust me, to trust the woman who had stolen both of you away from me, the woman who had murdered your mother in the past."

That he didn't know. His heart thumping angrily at the thought they would even consider that woman to be an ally. After everything she had done to them. He scowls and stiffens and Regina feels it and sinks slightly in her posture beside him.

"It was a mistake. I never should have let my guard about her down, but I wanted so terribly to believe that she was going to try and be better."

"You did what you thought was best at the time, I suppose."

His tone is flat, clearly unimpressed with the story thus far, and it was only going to get worse. "I will regret that decision forever."

"Why?"

"Hades double crossed all of us, tried to trap us in the Underworld so he and Zelena could return here and rule without any of us being there to stop him."

"She picked a real winner didn't she."

Regina chuckles sadly, wipes her eyes that build with tears. "My sister is a complicated woman."

"What happened after that? You guys obviously got back."

"We did. You father and I broke into my office where Hades was keeping your sister." The words catch in her throat. The locked away memory beginning to form into her mind. The way she had apologized for being so crass with Robin's child. How he'd forgiven her, his promise that she was his future, that kiss that left her tingling from head to toe. It had been the last time she'd ever get to feel him like that again.

"Hades killed him didn't he?"

Her tears fall but she nods out a quiet  _yes_. They fall into silence, Roland watching the flames as his heart begins to bleed at the thought of his father dying as a hero. That's all they told him. Not who, not how, but just that he died being the hero they all knew him to be. That was the last they would ever speak of it.

"He had this crystal that could obliterate a soul, wipe a person from existence and he turned it on me."

Roland stills and tilts his face down to Regina's who is crying quietly beside him. Her lips quivering, pink chilled cheeks stained with heavy trails of pain that escape eyes shut tight.

"He saved you."

"It's my fault he died."

His head swirls at the idea, but he knew his father, and his papa was a man who put those he loved first. He was a hero in every shape and form. There is no doubt in his mind that his dad would have done only what was necessary in order to save her.

"No. No it's not."

Regina cries only harder at that, burying her face into her palms as Roland covers her little torso into his arms, and hugs her tight. "He loved you. And I know my dad. He didn't do it without thinking about the consequences. He knew what he was doing."

"It should have been me though." She shakes in his arms, "He shouldn't have gotten in my way."

"Do you really think my dad would have listened to you?"

"What?" She sniffs hard, pulling back from his body and searching his face confused as he smiles down at her. "Think about it. When did you ever know my dad to listen to anyone when someone who he loved was being threatened?"

Her mind floods with all the times he had done just that. Not listened to her. Gotten in her way and almost died for it. In the Enchanted Forest, here in storybrooke when the darkness tried to take her, in Camelot when a blade meant for her had stabbed him instead. He was stubborn when it came to her protection. The thought makes her heart skip.

"He was beyond stubborn in that regard and there if he was here today, you know he'd tell you he would do it again."

She cries, nods, and leans back into him. He's right. And she knows it. But still, his protective streak had cost him his life, simply because he loved her, and she never wanted that from him, his life to be taken for hers to be sparred. That wasn't supposed to be their ending.

"I'm proud of him. Now that I know why he died. Makes me feel better, more at peace I guess."

"I'm sorry you lost him Roland."

"Me to. And I am sorry for you too. Like I said, he was my dad, but you loved him too, and loss is never easy."

"When did you become so wise?" She smirks through her tears as he grins and shrugs, "Not a clue."

They fall back into an easier silence as the fire heats the air around them. Perhaps this is good for her, to talk about what happened, she's never truly spoken to anyone but Maleficent about that night. It feels...freeing in a strange way.

"I miss him."

"Me too."

"Will you tell me about your heart?"

Exhaling hard she sits up straight, leaving Roland's shoulder rest for now, "When I got home from New York, you were gone. I think it was Ruby who told me that the Merry Men had taken you back to Sherwood Forest. I was furious."

"You were?"

"Of course I was. You were not just theirs. I loved you." She shakes out angrily at the memory of learning her little knight had been taken without even a conversation or goodbye. "For days after you left I had tried everything to open a portal so that I could at least come and explain what was happening, possibly convince them to let me have you for a little while every year."

"You wanted me back?"

"Roland." She turns and cups his cheek tenderly. "There hasn't been a day that's passed that I haven't prayed for you to come home to me. I have missed you more than I can express and I feel so unbelievably guilty that I never got to say even a goodbye to you. It wasn't fair to you."

"Wasn't fair to you either."

"No. It wasn't. But you were so young and understandably couldn't possibly know why everything had suddenly changed. I should have protected you better."

His eyes burn with tears, swallowing the lump in his throat heavily as he breathes out a shaky, "I'm here now though."

Regina smiles, lets a few tears fall from her thick lashes as her head shakes back and forth before holding his gaze strong.

"You are. And I promise that I won't let that happen ever again."

"I guess you couldn't open a portal though?"

"I tried. I really did. Magic can be finicky and when the black fairy's wand had shattered when the portal closed, it closed off everything. For a while no one could travel anywhere."

He nods, beginning to understand more and more why he grew up without her. "Is that why your heart looks like it does?"

"Part of it certainly."

Frowning he tilts her fallen chin back up to his eyes. "What happened to it then?"

Regina sighs, sniffs back till she can steal her emotions at bay and explain to him as best as she can. "I couldn't give up on you, or your father."

"You tried to bring him back?"

"I did, many times. But magic is finicky and it's nearly killed me in the process."

"He'd be pissed with you doing that."

"I know." She chuckles, seeing his bright blue eyes in the distance of her heart, the way he'd certainly be huffing out an aggravated breath at her for putting herself in jeopardy like that. But she missed him.

"Why didn't it work?"

"I needed more than just my heart to bring him back I guess."

"You gave up pieces of your heart for him?"

"And for you."

His eyebrows raise high into his hairline as he gapes openly astounded and confused at her.

"I was so desperate to get you both back that my own well being didn't seem that important at the time. As long as it worked, I would keep trying."

"Yeah he'd definitely be mad at you for that. I am a bit to be honest."

She freezes beside him, "I was trying to find you."

"And putting yourself in danger in the process. Neither of us would have wanted that."

"Roland you were five."

"Doesn't matter. You are my mother and there is no way I'd want you to do that for me."

Her jaw drops, eyes flooding with new fresh hot tears. He called her  _his mother_ , present tense. It makes her heart flip and crash about against her ribs.

"What?"

"You called me your mother."

"You are. Why do you think I came back to find you?"

He looks oddly bewildered at her stunned expression. It's true. She's been that person for him. He doesn't remember Marian. Not really anyway. And the memories of Zelena masquerading as her have been magically wiped away. Regina in all essence is his mom. He just figured she knew that. Regardless of his anger towards her in the beginning, he is still that same lost little boy holding her memory in his heart like a vice grip. And now that the truth is beginning to come out, the anger is swallowed by a longing to have her back. He's missed her. And he wants her to be there again. Wants a mother back. Wants her back.

Her arms curl slowly around his neck and she buries her face into his chest, crying hard, and he isn't sure if it's from pain or happiness, he hopes it's the later as he hugs her back tightly. "I mean if you still want me to stay…"

"Always Roland. Always." She laughs through her tears into him, gripping his shoulders harder, as he chuckles into her hair, soft as he remembers it to be.

"I have a question though." He pulls back, looking her straight in her eyes. "Do you know what could bring him back?"

"I don't in all honesty." She confesses, "I thought that maybe because he and I are soulmates that my heart would be enough." Her voice trails off.

"What about using mine as well?"

"Roland." She shakes her head, because that is a definite no. "I won't use your heart."

"Why?"

"Because. I don't know if it would work, and even if it did, I can't do that to you, he wouldn't want that."

"I'm a grown man, I can make my own decisions and I want you to do it. Just let us try."

"Roland-"

"Just once. If it doesn't work then I won't ask you again."

She shakes her head, but he cups her cheek, his button brown eyes melting her soul.

"Please mom."


	8. Part 8

She is absolutely not doing it. There is no chance in hell it's going to happen. The outcome be damned, it's a downright no without question. Her resolve hasn't softened a touch in the past two days either. Not even with the wandering gazes and curious head tilts sent her way on the subject. They ask, she simply says no. She's putting her foot down. Regardless of the fact they are grown men, they are still her children and her word gets to be the last whether they like it or not. There is nothing further to discuss.

At least not when they are around.

It's in the quiet spaces of night when there are no ears to listen to the thundering, panicked hope in her heart at the mere thought that she is thinking about it, considering it. What if it worked? What if this was the missing piece she had needed? She could have him back, could see his face again, hear his voice, feel his touch.

Her fingertips wander over her own features, ones that have changed over the years. A few more wrinkles crested into the corners of her eyes, irritatingly unfortunate as they are to her. A grey hair here and there, she fervently tries to pluck out, though they simply grow back defiantly. She knows she doesn't look exactly the same, aging with the days that pass, and should this work, he would come back to her just as he was; eighteen years younger than she is now. The thought crossing her mind that perhaps she is too old for him. That he may not look at her the way he once did when her skin was smooth and untouched by passing years.

Scowling into the mirror in front of her, Regina sighs heavily, running her hands through the long length of her hair. It's something she's let grow freely, for he always said how much he appreciated it curling about her shoulders. She can still feel it,  _him_. The way his fingers would scratch at the base of her neck late at night, the curling of a lock playfully, a tell tale sign he was about to kiss her in  _that_  way. The one that would steal the very breath out of her lungs. Even the tingle of his lips ghosts across her own. Mint and pine lingering on her tongue as she swallows down the memory of his taste.

But that's what it is. A memory.

And while her own well being isn't normally at the forefront of her mind, using Roland's heart that way is out of the question. Case and point, the state of her own damaged organ. Brokenly and openly weeping from desperate attempts to try everything and anything to bring them back. It's vulgar to look at the way it, barely beats behind the crevasses and scars. A reminder of the failures and unanswered prayers. She can't do that to his own when the outcome is so uncertain. But maybe...

"I can hear you thinking."

Regina shakes her head out of the wandering fog and turns to find Maleficent standing at the frame of their door, eyeing her up with a soft scan. She is probably the only person privy to the true thoughts in Regina's mind. Even when said thoughts are supposed to be locked tightly away, the Dragon manages to slink behind the tall concrete walls and curl around Regina's heart protectively.

It's with a sad smile that Regina turns, sniffs once with eyes all watery and sad, tucking a fallen piece of hair behind her ear. Tears will do nothing. They show the pain that can't be healed and that's all. A sign of weakness.

She kneels in front of Regina, watching the avoidance of hickory eyes that furiously blink back the swarming wetness coating her lashes. Eighteen years is a long time to live with heartbreak. It's etched into every flicker that paints Regina's soul. A broken soul. Settling down the bouncing nervous knee with a gentle palm, she links her hands into Regina's on her thighs, quietly thumbing over the sparkling emerald that sits on a left ring finger. If only she knew how to take this anguish away.

But bringing back the dead is beyond even the powers of a Dragon, at least when all the ingredients needed aren't available.

A heavy swallow brings blue eyes back up to a tear stained face, whiskey gaze locked onto the ring Mal smoothes over once more before cupping Regina's cheek softly. "It's okay to want to try. You know that, right?"

Regina sniffs, shaking her head dejectedly, letting the curtain of her hair fall over her shoulders, a shadow casting across her face. "I can't do it."

"Tell me why?"

"Because, Mal."

"That is not a reason. Just a silly word."

"Mal…" she sighs, wiping away the remnants of tears, but new ones form quickly in their stead, rushing to pour out regardless if they are wanted.

Mal's arms curl around her, hugging tight with a nuzzle into brown chocolate waves, her fiery warmth immediately skimming along Regina's skin. "Why should you deny yourself this chance?" Her fingers comb through long, brown silky waves, "You deserve it, Regina."

"I deserve nothing." She pulls back sullenly from the embrace, her own arms wrapping around her stomach, a sad final protective barrier that doesn't do much in the way of protecting. A blonde eyebrow arches, quizzical eyes pour into her, tweezing out the truth that lay hidden behind the mask.

"You're afraid?"

"Of course I am. It's Roland's heart I'd be cutting into. He could die."

"No. That's not what I meant."

It's tucked beneath the shadows of superficial doubts. The honest revelation that frightens Regina.

"You know it would work. But that isn't what scares you, is it?"

"I…" Her breath catches at the knowing look in Maleficent's eyes. Sometimes she wishes the Dragon wasn't so damn perceptive. She bites down on her lip, scowling at the slight tilt in Mal's smile as she waits for the answer to an incredibly unnerving question. Exhaling wearily, her gaze flicks back to the mirror, over the features that have so changed.

She isn't the same person he loved, time has altered that, and she isn't sure she could be that person again.  _That_ Regina had lightness in her, a ridiculous feeling that everything may work out, happy endings and all. But now? If, and it's a big damn if, this worked and she got him back, would she always be waiting for another goodbye? Would he not see her the way he used to? Has her heart been too broken from losing him more than once to be truly hopeful again? Fear surely would claim her entirely at the thought of waking up everyday and her thief being stolen out of her life once more. He wouldn't leave her. But he could be taken like he had before. She'd never survive that. Losing him. Not again.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Mal lingers at her legs still as Regina anxiously shrugs silently. "I think it's going to work. And I think you will get what you've always dreamed of having."

"I have you." Regina mumbles out between her trembling lips.

For all the goodness that is in Mal, that the world rarely gets to see, she smiles brightly, and lands a soft kiss to Regina's cheek. "And you always shall. But the love you and I have is different than the one you were meant to be with."

"Doesn't make me love you any less."

"I appreciate that. But I know your heart, Regina. It's big enough to hold more than one of us in there."

"You'd stay?" She stammers, heart astounded.

"Forever if you wanted me too," Mal answers truthfully.

Regina just nods instead of answering, words don't really seem to do justice to this feeling that blooms in the recesses of her core, at the picture that builds in her mind, where all three of them could be here, together, as a family.

"And I think you will die an old, cranky, wrinkling, cane wielding woman with him right beside you."

"Both of you."

Mal rolls her eyes with a small chuckle, "Both of us," she agrees.

It takes a second, curiously to Mal as she watches Regina fiddle with her hands, and chew on her lower lip, before a second small confession leaks out.

"I'm old."

"I beg your pardon?"

Regina's eyes widen dramatically as her hand waves in front of her face as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"You're concerned he will not find you attractive?"

It sounds ridiculous being put into verbal form, makes Regina cringe in embarrassment on the spot for even thinking it. "I'm not even going to dignify that absurd comment with an answer." Mal snorts incredulously as she stands, leading Regina to their bed.

She hates the thick duvet that Regina insists on covering it with. A hot, stifling thing the Dragon swears to the high heavens is trying to suffocate her in heat. The sheet is more than enough for someone who internally radiates out a fire. Regina, on the other hand, demands it to be wrapped around her body, Maleficent's as well, at least for a little while until sleep takes her. (But she craves the bordering on sweating warmth). Why Maleficent has no idea, but she allows her arms to be tugged around Regina's back anyway, and the god awful goose down blanket tossed over top of her.

Focusing on the beautiful feeling of cold snow, she runs her fingers up and down Regina's spine, pulsing a touch of sleepy magic into her tired love, one who begins to hum quietly into Mal's chest. If Regina falls asleep soon, Mal can toss off this infernal device quicker. She waits, until the hot puffing of breath hits her skin, sends a single curious eye down, heart happy to see that dreamland has claimed Regina.

"Do you think it will really work?"

Apparently she isn't asleep…

"Yes."

"Will you help me?"

"Always."

Regina nods, cuddles in tighter, a small dainty thing that makes Mal's heart swell a fraction larger for the woman. If the townspeople that once lived under the rule of an Evil Queen only knew their ruler likes snuggling. Perhaps it would have tamed the ruthless whispers about her. Chuckling to herself at the thought, she lets her mind drift back to a snow bank as the heat from Regina's body and the comforter swelter from the outside.

"Mal?"

"Yes, love?"

"I will not be a wrinkly, cane wielding woman."

"You left out cranky."

Regina just sighs and tucks herself in tighter, a muffled, "Too late for that one," puffing out before she finally gives into exhaustion and drifts away. It leaves Mal with nothing but silence as she stares out the window, thinking about what may come, what she may gain, and more nervously, who she may lose in the process. Love is a tricky thing after all. And sometimes, the best thing one can do, is to let the other go.

If it comes down to it, well, Dragon's always were solitary creatures.

.

..

…

..

.

Roland has been staying more and more often, bringing coffee in the mornings, talking at end with Regina now that the wounds are slowly being healed. It's nice. Better than. They are learning each other all over again, sharing stories of lives lived apart. Regina had been rather surprised to hear how Roland became a thief in his own right, following in his father's footsteps, giving to the poor when he could afford to do it. He's a good man. Robin would be beyond proud of his son. In her own time, she too has shared just how hard it's been without them here. Has fought through a few tears thinking about all the time they had missed together and how much she regrets it. He just smiles, takes her hand in his, touching freely accepted by both parties, and tells her that he is just happy to be back where he belongs.

It's not far from his mind though. The chance of getting his father back as well. Even if there is still hesitation in Regina's eyes when he brings it up, he can't just give up on the possibility, will wait until she is ready. But that had been weeks ago, and he is getting anxious at the idea. Surely just once they could try and if it doesn't work, well at least he can find peace that they attempted it anyway.

So it's with renewed determination he brings breakfast across the kitchen threshold, finding Henry already there waiting for him. They'd talked about it yesterday, and days upon days before that. Together, they've decided that it's worth the effort. Even if Henry had explained just what could happen, the fear he held for his mother going through that magic again, the scars it's left behind, he wants to try as well. Robin was a father to him in every sense as he was to Roland.

They just need to get their mother on board. And what better way than hot coffee, syrup drenched french toast, fresh strawberries and two pairs of puppy dog eyes she has a hard time resisting? After a quick kiss to Regina's smiling cheek, he sits down and passes out breakfast, his heart thumping at the conversation they are about to have. He just prays Regina sees their reasoning.

"This is a nice surprise." She slides in beside her boys, eyeing up the soggy french toast and pile of berries on her plate. It makes her jaw water. Indulging in sugar filled mornings usually isn't her thing, she much prefers an egg whites omelet with veggies, but every now and then what's the harm? "You boys have plans today?"

Roland shifts nervously in his seat, drowning himself in the hot coffee… too hot, as it burns his tongue he coughs and sputters against the singe. Henry bumps him under the table, giving him a look that doesn't miss Regina's curious gaze, nor does the quick flush that creeps into Roland's cheeks. They are up to something. It's clear as day on their poor poker faces.

"Actually, Mom," Henry juts in as Roland tries to calm his breathing, "We were thinking we could go to your vault."

Her eyebrow arches. There is nothing down there they'd need. "What for?" She sips her own coffee, and takes a thick bite of gloriously sweet toast.

"Well… uhh…" Henry swallows, flicking a glance to Roland who avoids all eye contact, chewing on his own breakfast bite far too long before he swallows it down hard. Clearly whatever they want isn't a simple picnic in the park. "We were hoping we could try today." Henry finally finishes.

"Try what?"

"To bring my dad back," Roland mumbles out, darting his eyes up to Regina's as they widen. It goes quiet in the kitchen after that. The boys waiting for her reaction, one that she isn't entirely sure of. Suddenly the piece of toast in her mouth seems far too big, cloyingly sweet as she tries to push it down her throat that bubbles in nausea. That's what they want. Why she has been brought a lavish breakfast without warning. She feels sick. Her food stuck like a lump in her stomach as she licks her lips and sets her coffee aside. Why didn't she see this coming?

"Mom?" Henry slides over to reach for her hand. She smiles, well, tries to at least, the curve of her lip barely moving, as she scans over Henry's face, seeing the little boy from all those years ago who lost a father that day. He has grown up so fast. But his eyes are still the same. Full of hope. A hope she doesn't know she can grab onto. Roland is on her other side before she realizes it, gripping her other free hand into his own, a heavy breath passing through his nose as he watches the way her eyes fill with terrified tears. "If it doesn't work, I swear I will never ask again."

"I don't know."

"Why, Mom? Why can't we just try?"

She sighs, chewing on her bottom lip, eyes catching Mal as she walks quietly into the kitchen with a curious gaze at the sight. She knows in an instant what is going on. Sends Regina a soft smile and a gentle nod.

"It may not work."

"But it might." Roland nods, trying gently to get her to agree.

Shaking her head, a single tear falls, "I am afraid that you'll both be angry if it doesn't."

"Angry with you?" Henry squeezes her hand, as she shrugs noncommittally, flicking her eyes up to his nervously. "Mom, never." He leans in to kiss her cheek, his chin resting on her shoulder afterward just like he used to when he was younger. It makes Regina's heart flutter, he's still her little prince, with a bit more facial hair and thicker arms, but still, forever and always he is her baby.

"Mom," Roland turns his shoulders to her, bringing her cupped hand to his lips, a feather light kiss pressed to her knuckles as he smiles. "Just once. I promise. Just let me try."

Her heart thunders, clenches and squeezing the air out of her lungs at the look in his eyes, in both her babies eyes, staring straight into her soul without abandon. They have so much hope, so much faith in her. Mal sits down beside Henry, leaning until her hands can cover Regina's as well, and without words she says everything with one look. If it doesn't work nothing will change. And if it does… well then perhaps the chair that sits alone across from Regina could once again be taken up residence by the one person she has longed to see sitting there for years.

All she has to do is have a little bit of hope.

"Okay."

.

..

…

..

.

To say she is nervous would be an understatement. They'd finished breakfast rather quickly after her agreement to trying, the excitement bubbled in the faces of Henry and Roland as they walked towards the vault. She doesn't know if she feels excited. Doesn't really know what she feels at all. Dread and fear taking up most of the space in her gut as the concrete mausoleum comes into view. Her heart shakes with every step closer, sensing what is about to happen once more. What if she isn't strong enough to come back this time? Well, maybe she'd get to see him in the afterlife then.

Mal is there too, holding her hand as Henry pushes the door open, and Regina freezes on the spot. Suddenly unable to make her feet move any further as Roland and Henry walk down the stone steps.

"What's wrong?"

She trembles with a shake of her head, "I can't do this, Mal."

"Tell me why." Mal stands in front of her, blocking the doorway that stands only a few feet ahead, drawing Regina's attention away from what is possibly going to happen and to the strength and faith in her eyes. "Are you afraid it won't work?"

"Yes," Regina whispers out. "Incredibly so."

"If it doesn't, then it doesn't. But at least you tried."

"What if it's not good enough for them? What if they want to try again? I don't think my heart will make it through it again."

Mal sighs, running her hands through Regina's hair and cupping her cheeks. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do." Regina implies quickly, because she does, with everything in her heart she does trust her Dragon.

"Then listen to me when I say, they will not be angry with you if it doesn't."

Regina sighs, but Mal is ever persistent.

"I promise you that. Your boys love you. That's not going to change."

"Promise?"

The Dragon smiles, kisses her Queen's lips softly, "Would I lie to you?" She nuzzles into Regina's nose, and laces their hands together again, stepping aside so the vault door comes back into view. Regina swallows, takes a long counting breath as she steals the spike of anxiety in her heart, looking one last time at Mal who simply waits with an easy smile.

"I love you. You know that right?"

"I do. Come on, let's go get your thief back."

Regina chuckles, steps forward with a small shred of determination laces into her soul once more.

"Even if I hate the smell of forest." Mal bumps her shoulder to Regina's teasingly.

"You'll learn to enjoy it."

The Dragon hums, rolls her eyes and leads Regina into the vault with one last quip, "If you say so."

It's warmer down here than usual, perhaps it's simply from the hope that radiates from the pair of boys, well men, standing in wait in the bottom room, ready as ever to get their father back. It's been awhile since she's been down here. There hasn't been much of a reason since, well, the last time she tried to bring Roland and Robin home. That had been a few years ago, and she barely made it out with her life. Perhaps she won't be as lucky this time around.

"So what exactly do we do?" Roland questions out quietly, hands shoved into his pockets as his eyes scan the room curiously. Mal is the first to move, moving Regina gently towards the sofa, breathing out a hot suddenly anxious breath, though she dares not let Regina see the nerves that are creeping up her scales. Rarely does a Dragon get scared, but knowing what is about to happen, well it has fear gripping Mal's heart as Regina leans into the cushions, blowing out a breath.

"Do it quickly." She whispers out, and Mal doesn't hesitate as her hand presses into Regina's chest, as gently as she possibly can, and curls her hand around the warm, precious beating organ and tugging back out, grimacing at the wince that peaks out of Regina's lips.

"Sorry." She muffles out, cradling the treasure in her hand, the other smoothing out over Regina's cheek who merely shakes her head,  _piece of cake_   _right._

"So you have to take out my heart?" Roland sits down beside Regina, Adam's apple bobbing at the sight of Regina's heart in Mal's hand. He shouldn't be this nervous. He trusts them. But having your heart ripped from it's safe cavity doesn't exactly seem pleasant.

_Think of dad. Think about seeing him again._

"It hurts. I won't lie." Regina reaches for his hand, eyes wandering over his face, "We don't have to do this. You can say no."

He shakes his head, stealing his nerves as he leans into her palm on his chest, his own curling over her fingers. "I trust you."

"Okay, just try and breath."

Her hand trembles as her fingertips seep into his chest, beyond the barrier of muscle and bone, the heat that radiates off his heart is overwhelming for a moment, steady and strong as her hand hugs around it. A sharp tingle sparks up her forearm, a bubbling beat bursting out of her own organ in Mal's hand. With one last look at her battered heart she tugs, quick as she can, anguished at the hiss Roland lets out.

It's a bit darker than she anticipated in all honesty. She figured his heart would have been like Henry's, golden, pure. And it is… and it isn't. The red glow is everywhere, light pouring out from every vein, except the small black swirl in the bottom corner, tiny as it may be, it stuns Regina silent.

"I can explain that."

She shakes her head, smiling at the fear suddenly in his brown eyes. It's not important. He did what he had to do to survive. "Your heart is beautiful, Roland."

"So is yours."

She smiles, squeezing his hand once, because it's not true, but it's sweet he is trying to ease her anguish. Just like his father.

"Now what?"

Regina shrinks. Taking out a heart is easy, carving out a piece is the hard part. The painful part. Best if she goes first. So he knows what to expect. Extending her hand, Mal drops it into her palm, a heavy weight that continues to weep it's sticky tar to this day. Huffing out at the sight of it, she stands, waves a cauldron into the room, and sets her heart down onto the white cloth beside the potions that sparkle and bubble on the table.

She's always enjoyed potions. Concocting things no one else can. Pushing the boundaries of what is possible, what the perfect recipe for each individual spell is. Henry teases it's the inner nerd in her, something she scoffs at through a smirk. Grabbing the first pale blue liquid, she stares into the empty black pot, closes her eyes and pictures him. Forest smell, the blonde stubble of his cheeks, bright, sky blue eyes, the callouses of his hands, every single detail she can bring forward, right down to the sound of his voice, whispering softly in her ears that he loves her.

It's only mixing after that. Pale blue goes first, followed by a onyx sparkling liquid, a puff of midnight cloud blooms out.

"Wow." Roland stands beside her, heart placed down beside her own, both beating steadily side by side. "That's incredible." His eyes dance as the cloud begins to dissipate around them. It's rather adorable, this look on his face Regina turns to find. Makes her think about the little boy she met in the Enchanted Forest all those years ago, and the first time she had shown him her magic. He'd had the exact same expression, awe.

"What is all this stuff?"

Regina stills, scrunches up her nose as she grabs a third bottle, sparkling in greens and golds, a particular vial that holds something beyond precious to her, the last few particles of Tinkerbell's pixie dust.

If it doesn't work this time, there is not going to be another attempt. Might as well use it all. She tips the bottle over, heart fluttering at the white bubbles that form and pop into sunset gold sparkles before sinking back down into the liquid.

"Pour that one in, but just half of it. And careful, it tends to spark." She hands him a red milky vial.

"You want me to help?"

She shrugs, smiles and grabs her heart, exhaling hard as a small knife forms in her hand. She presses the tip of the blade into one of the last remaining intact pieces, wincing as it pierces the meaty flesh.

"Ah!" The cauldron bubbles and fires, Roland leaping a half step back at the sparks that fly out. "You weren't kidding." He chuckles embarrassed, and his eyes immediately train on the knife pressed into Regina's heart. Blood trickles along the silver blade, droplets dripping down onto the white cloth. He can see the pain etched into her face, as she cuts a single, perfect triangle out of the beating organ, her breath tight as the piece comes away and falls into her awaiting palm.

She looks unsteady, pale and shaky when the knife clatters back down onto the table. "You okay?" He runs a hand up her back, grabbing her hand that holds the broken off piece. It pulses, hard and hot as he turns Regina's hand over, letting it fall against his own skin. A white burn spikes up his arm, oddly not as painful as he would expect, but rather a comforting gentle seeping of her magic. Regina nods, sniffs and blows out a breath, leaning into his arm wrapped around her waist as her eyes blink away the tears. That is not a pleasant sensation to say the very least. Swallowing, she turns to Roland's heart, bile rising in her throat at the thought of cutting into the beautiful beating organ.

"I should do it."

"No. It's okay."

"Regina. It should be me." He takes the knife from the table, and his heart in his other hand, holding apprehensive gaze the entire time, "I am willingly giving up a piece of my heart to bring him back, just as you have. Trust me."

"Don't cut it too deep, just a small section." Mal stands beside them, finding the words Regina can't bring to let out. Roland nods, and Regina's ears begin to buzz at the sight of the knife piercing his heart, the immediate trail of blood that seeps from the wound. They should stop. She shouldn't be letting this happen. He should not be doing this. How could she let it get this far?

God dammit.

Roland whimpers as the blade drags across his heart, and it hurts. Like a bloody arrow going through him. But his mind focuses on his dad, on why they are going through his pain right now, the outcome will wash this all away. He has to believe in that. It will work. It has to work. Regardless of the burning agony the laceration spreads out into his body, he will not stop, not until Mal's voice tells him to do so. Against the wetness that involuntary bleeds into his eyes, he cuts a near straight line across the flesh, doing his best to match the triangle piece of Regina's heart.

Sweat beads along his temple, his knees begin to weaken as the pain grows, the organ pulsing erratically at the injury. Just one last line, just needs to connect them all together, and it will be done, the dizziness that invades his brain will fade. At least he damn well hopes so.

"Stop."

He keeps cutting, hands shaky when the blade goes a bit too far, cuts too deep, a blinding white light beaming out of it as he stumbles back, Henry's arms wrapping around him before he can hit the floor. He's going to be sick. He can feel it. The bubble of nausea that stews in his gut.

"Breath, Roland. In through your nose."

He does, inhales with the gentle touch of Regina's hand on his forehead.

"Good. Let it out slowly."

He listens again. Repeats it over and over until the sway of the world begins to even out. Blinking against the fuzziness, it's all Regina that he sees, eyes wide and frantically searching his face.  _So much for not scaring her,_  he grumbles internally, sitting up straight on the floor he apparently collapsed onto against Henry's embrace.

"Are you alright?"

He nods, but his brain rattles about his skull. Okay so no sudden movements. How about words? Words could work, at least better than movement.

"I'm good." He draws in another much needed breath, but Regina's eyes are filling with tears, lower lip trembling, and he doesn't want that at all. Smiling he grips her hand, "I'm good, I promise. That was just…"

"Excruciatingly painful?" Mal supplies from the cauldron. He nods, chuckles a bit at the minimal explanation it truly gave that feeling, but best not dwell on that anymore. The piece of heart in his hand beats strong, side by side against the bit of Regina's he still clutches gently. Standing slowly, he laces his free hand with Regina's, drawing them both back up to the cauldron that bubbles and smokes away. It's oddly endearing, the color that swirls about it. A dark green, just like the forest. He wonders if magic has a way of sensing what it's trying to accomplish. Latches onto the tiny threads and swallows them whole.

"Okay. You ready?"

He can hear the unsteadiness in her voice, the way her eyes water anxiously at the potion below, the nervousness seeps through every pore she has. And it's not like he isn't also concerned, his heart beating loudly on the white cloth is enough proof of his nerves.

"Think of your dad. Everything about him. The good. The bad. All of it. You have to want it all back."

He nods, understanding exactly what she is trying to get across. It has to be all of it. Closing his eyes, he lets his mind paint the picture of his memories with his dad. The times they laughed playing in the stream back in the Enchanted Forest, the bedtime stories and adventures with the Merry Men he never wanted to end, every snuggle and stubbly kiss that seemed to be in endless supply. He wants them all back.

But it's also the memories of being angry, the abandonment and loneliness. Every time he got into trouble and was scolded sternly. The times when he thought his father was the worst for laying out rules Roland didn't want to abide by. The day his father left forever, all of the anger he's held so close to his heart for all these years, If he wants his dad, he wants all of his dad and that anger needs to wash away. He wants to be reprimanded when he does something wrong. Wants to be praised and loved when it turns out right.

More importantly, he wants the family he used to have. With Regina and Henry, and even Maleficent. He wants Sunday morning breakfasts in pyjamas, wants to see his father stealing a kiss from Regina's lips, wants to see her smile, the smile only his father could bring out, he simply wants his family.

Keeping all of it in the forefront of his mind, his eyes slowly crack open, and he frowns at the tears that stream down on Regina's cheeks. Surely she should be happy in this moment, not silently crying what looks to be horrendously sad tears. He wonders why though. What could have such a grip on her heart she can't even crack a smile?

He wonders, but doesn't ask.

It's the late nights they spent curled up in bed together, simply staring at one another with goofy grins and flushed cheeks. The night he'd pushed her heart back into her chest, the feeling that spread from the tips of her toes to the very last strands of her hair. Love. She felt loved. And love is hard. With all the softly traded kisses and gentle caresses, there is also the fear and fighting. More so back in their early days in the Enchanted Forest, when sharp barbs and nasty remarks had been thrown back and forth. A mask in all reality. One to hide the way her heart had nearly lept out of her chest at the mere mention of his name. That's when fear came in. Fear of being vulnerable and exposed to  _this_  man. The one she'd been destined to meet, fated to be with, and had run away from.

She thinks of all the times he'd looked at her  _that_ way. Even when tears had clouded her eyes when he'd chosen another over her in respect of his code, she could still see it. He loved her. Even if he was leaving her, he loved her. All the desperation and loneliness of being without one another, time and time again, she needs to want that back too. Has to believe that it was all for the best, their timing wasn't exactly right, but it would work out. It had to. She wants to miss him again, when he isn't around. Wants to feel the jump in her heart when the front door clicks open and his boots sound his arrival.

She wants that back. The chance to hear his quick tongue playfully jibe back at her heated temper. Even if it got under her skin, she wants it. Wants to feel those butterflies in her stomach that swoop and spiral out of control when he argues until they are both red in the face and out of breath. It felt real having that. Being irritated at each other. Love isn't easy after all.

She thinks of the times he'd looked at her with such sadness in his eyes. The betrayal of giving his daughter back to the one woman who had ruined everything and the anger he held for Regina in that moment. She wants to feel his anger, his contempt when she makes a hasty decision, wants to hear the soft sighing in his voice when she screams back that she doesn't need him.

But she does. She needs to feel the faint taste of mint on her lips when he kisses her, needs the rough callouses of his hands to trail up and down her arms again. Needs to see him with their boys, playing in the park, curling up with a video game, reading a book into the late hours of the night even when they are all supposed to be asleep.

It has to be everything. She needs to want to have the anxiety and lingering dread of losing him again. And she does, sort of. Would rather he stay beside her until the very end, hold her hands when they get old and spotted with age, kiss her wrinkling cheeks and tuck his nose in the greying of her hair. Life with him. She wants that. The good and the bad.

With his face in her mind and the feeling of his arms wrapped around her, she opens her eyes, and Roland is there, watching her cautiously. She smiles at his concern, something his dad always did. Putting her before themselves even in the most frightful of situations.

"Ready?"

He nods, squeezes her hand and thinks of his dad.

"On the count of three, drop your heart in." She squeezes back.

"What's going to happen?"

"Honestly, this time I am not sure, but just don't let go of my hand okay? No matter what."

He nods and stares back down at the bubbling green glowing liquid. Praying that it's a good sign the hue reminds him of his father as he lifts his palm holding the piece of his heart he willingly gives.

"One,"

_I'm bringing you back dad._

"Two,"

_Please come back to me, Robin._

"Three."

Their fists uncurl and the two glowing red triangles drop into the cauldron and everything goes silent. Not a breath moving from any lungs as the dark pine green swirls and sparks, turning bright white. She sees it before it happens, the lightning bolt that thrashes out from the bottom and ignites the vault with a blast of magic, throwing all four people surrounding it into the walls.

Her head rings, ears buzzing as she locks eyes on Roland laying unconscious beside her. The magic from the caldron pours out, seeping into her skin, a white hot fire burning into the very core of her soul. She screams, or at least she thinks she does, and everything goes dark.

**TBC.**


	9. Part 9

When she wakes, it's in the softness of her own bed, alone. Mal is not there wrapped around her as she usually is, which is odd. Her head pulses, knocking hard against her skull, and she groans at the pain. Why there is pain? She doesn't… oh. The vault. The lightning bolt. The Magic. Trying to get Robin back.

Her heart clenches in her chest. She doesn't remember anything after hitting the wall. Doesn't know if the spell worked, or if Robin is here or not. If he was, surely he would be beside her right now, wouldn't he be? Holding her hand, smiling down at her, kissing the very breath out of her lungs. But he's not. The bed is cold beside her.

The thought makes her ache and a flush of tears sweep into her eyes. It must not have worked. Her last chance at bringing him back is another failure.

Curling into herself under the covers, the first tears are quiet as they fall onto the silk pillow. Her heart clearly back in her chest for the pain it radiates out is unbearable. Her throat tightens, as does her grip on the blanket over her shoulders, lungs contracting hard against every inhale she tries to pull in.

She will never see him again. That much is certain now. There is no more hope in bringing him back to her. The sobs come out louder now, escaping the anguish in her soul, and she cries, and cries and cries until her eyes run dry and her brain pulls her back down into sleep. The only place she will get to see him. The only place they can be together.

.

..

…

..

.

It's fuzzy when he rolls over, his brain all muggy and scrambled as the feeling of a quilt brushes against his chest. Cracking an eye open, he finds himself in his old room. Frowning, he sits up gently, rubbing the sore spot on his torso where his heart beats heavily. He can still feel it. The knife cutting through the flesh, the pain that rocketed up his spine as he tore out a part of himself. For his dad. Where is his dad? The house is beyond quiet, not a footstep to be heard. If his father was back why wasn't he here with him? Why weren't they together, here and now, in his old room?

His eyes burn. It didn't work. They couldn't bring him back. It was all for nothing. All the hope he had now lost to the longing pain in his heart. He slumps back down into the pillow, turning onto his side and stares at the painting of the forest on the wall. Bright, happy colors that seem dull and dark now. He'd watched his dad paint it. For days with Regina and a few Merry Men. They'd spent hours in this room, making sure everything was damn perfect. But it's just a picture. One that has no life to it anymore. Nothing right now seems to have life. For years he'd prayed to find a way back home. And he has, with Regina and Henry, found his family again. But what is a family without his father there? His fingers reach out to touch the painting, over the brown hue of a tree trunk, it all just feels empty.

Shutting his eyes, the tears leak out silently, the image of his father's face the last thing he sees before sleep claims him once more.

.

..

…

..

.

She doesn't know how long she slept, but the sun is high in the sky, and Maleficent is sitting beside her now, caught in a deep thought, unaware that Regina has woken up once more. She looks… sad. But it's more than that. It's pain that etches across her features as her blue eyes stare out the window. Regina had half hoped her earlier waking was simply a dream, but this look on Mal's face is anything but joyful. Her breath rattles out shakily, drawing Maleficent away from her thoughts, as she turns, watery- eyed and laces her fingers into Regina's.

"I'm sorry."

Her heart pangs sorely at the words as she curls back into her pillow, hugging it tight with Mal's hand against her chest, tugging the other woman gently to lay behind her. She goes willingly and without question. Under the covers she so hates, and wraps her limbs around Regina tightly. "I'm so sorry, Regina."

The tears fall uncontrollably once more, against the gritty dryness in her throat she chokes out a sob, curses all the Gods above for not answering her last prayer. What else does she have to do to earn their listening ears? What more can she sacrifice just to have them grant one single wish? It's unfair. There is only so much rejection from them she can take. And this will be the final time she asks them for anything.

All she wanted was for them to be together again. A family like they used to be before everything was shattered. She wanted Henry to have him back. Wanted herself to have him back. Begged to apparently no one, that Roland would get the chance to see his father again. Her heart stills at his name.  _Roland_. And she shrinks further into Mal's embrace. Desperate to control her breathing, as she tries to find the words to ask.

"He's still asleep."

Good. At least there, he doesn't have to live this horrid realization that their hopes were all for nothing. He can stay there forever, lost in his memories of a better time.

"What can I do?"

She sniffs hard, burying her face into the pillow, "Just stay. Please."

"Always."

.

..

…

..

.

The room is dark when he wakes again. Still quiet as ever, cementing the fact that his father isn't here. There isn't any laughter in the mansion. Just silence.

Sleep. He just wants to go back to sleep and pretend this was all just a dream. If he wakes up from it, maybe it will be to a better scenario. One where he walks down the stairs and finds all of them sitting around the kitchen table. He tries to focus on that, but his stomach grumbles hungrily. He knows he won't sleep if he doesn't do something about it.

Slowly, with a heavy heart, he pushes the blankets off, letting a dismal breath go as he stands, tugging on a shirt of Henry's and walks through the door and down the steps. It's dark even down here. Not a single light turned on as he makes his way into the kitchen. There is leftover lasagna from two days ago. Cold and hardened noodles, but it will have to do. He doesn't have the energy to make anything else.

"Can I heat that up for you?"

He freezes with the glass pan in hand, turning to find Regina, eyes red-rimmed and exhaustion painted across her face. They stare at each other, sad and quiet knowing for real now that this isn't a dream, their efforts didn't pay off. Shrugging his shoulders, he sets the pan down, and Regina tugs her robe around her tighter and walks over to him, avoiding the frozen food all together as she buries herself into his chest. His arms wrap around her instantly and for a moment neither of them dare to breathe. At least not until he feels the wet staining of her tears hitting his shirt. He cradles her closer, chin resting on the crown of her head as his own tears flourish and fall.

"I'm so so-sorry, Ro-land."

She shakes in his arms, gripping the grey henley tight in her hands. "I'm so so sor-ry." He holds her, crushingly tight as they cry over the loss that seems far fresher than eighteen years.

"So am I." He whispers into her hair, trembling with every syllable. At least they found each other. At least he found home, even if it's not quite ever going to be whole again. It's where he belongs. Here. With his family.

A knock at the door echoes through their dismal embrace. Regina's head turning to rest on his chest as she eyes the sound in confusion. It's late, there is no one who should be knocking at this hour. Perhaps it's Henry. She hugs Roland hard once more, brushes her tears away and moves to walk to the door.

Roland follows a step behind her, swallowing his emotion back for the time being. The knock softens out again, three gentle raps on the white oak frame as they slowly make their way over to the foyer. Regina reaching back to find the hand he automatically gives to her, squeezing it one last time before she leaves him just behind her a few steps back. Her other hand reaches for the gold doorknob. Letting one last sniff out, she turns the handle.

She freezes at the blue eyes on the other side. All the air rushing out of her lungs at the sight of the man who stands stunned as she is just beyond the threshold in the winter snow.

"Robin?"

"Hello, my love."

Her heart bursts from her chest at the sound of his voice, burning like a wildfire at the dimpled smile that beams out of his stubbled cheeks. She just stares at him. Jaw dropped and eyes wide as he moves into her space, his eyes watering as he lifts a hand to cup her cheek, thumbing away the tears that have fallen. "I missed you."

"Dad?" A shaky voice comes out from behind them, and Robin tears his gaze away from Regina's eyes that shine in disbelief. He shifts, hand still gripped in Regina's as he moves slowly around her, towards the man who stands just beyond the doorway. He is taller, thicker in stature, but his eyes, they are the exact same.

"Roland?"

His arm wraps around his son's broad shoulders, tears freely falling as he hugs his child tight. "Oh my boy."

The End.

I'll write an epilogue.


	10. Part 10

**Finding Home Epilogue**

She can't stop looking at him. Has barely said anything since they sat down on the sofa, for her mind is completely stuck on just looking, perhaps trying to cement into her brain that this is real, he is sitting in front of her and holding her hand. It's not a dream. At least she hopes it's not. It doesn't feel like one, that's for damn sure. She just crosses one leg over the other, shuffling to be as close to Robin as possible without out right sitting on his lap, rests her head on the hand angled up from the sofa back and threads her other through his fingers. It's surreal. To think that the spell worked this time. After eighteen years of failure, it's finally gone the right way.

Roland on the other hand, contrary to Regina's silence, can't stop talking. Has words just skidding out without a breath taken in between because there is so much to say and clearly not enough time. It's funny though, how you say nothing when those you love are around simply because you figure they will be here tomorrow to listen. Regina's fingers squeeze his own at the thought, his bright blue eyes crinkling back in a smile. She's going to talk his damn ear off until he begs her to be quiet, once she figures out how to actually form a sentence again and not just gawk at him.

For now she's simply happy listening to every inflection of his voice, memorizing each line and curve on his face, internally adoring at the silver brown his hair and beard now sport. Apparently time travelled with him as it does any living person. Years that have salted his hair and deepened the wrinkles beside his eyes. It does funny things to her stomach, seeing him matching her in age still, has it scrunching up into a little ball before exploding like tiny firecrackers over and over, every time the fire behind them glitters on a new sliver of silver.

And for every word that Roland drops, Robin is quick to soak it all up. Entranced by the fact the son he last saw as a five year old is now a grown man, with thick shoulders and a carved strong jaw. But all Robin can see is the youth that still swirls in those brown eyes. A sense of boyhood clinging to him even now.

"I swiped all their gold right from under their noses! Bunch of idiot knights!" Roland bowls over in laughter, something Regina's been dying to hear again. He seems so happy. So utterly full of joy in this moment right now she wishes she could freeze time and just let him stay in this bubble of safety forever.

Robin chuckles alongside her, patting his son on the shoulders, "It was almost like that time you stole a horse from one of King Jonathon's guards." He grins, pride swelling into his chest.

But Roland stills in his chair, eyes gaping wide open. "How… how did you know about that?" He stammers out. Robin hangs his head, aware of what he's just done, though no one else is. A hand runs through his hair, a grimace painting his face as he sighs long and heavy.

"Dad? How did you know?"

Regina watches in shock, eyes glued to Robin who shakes his head sadly before tipping his chin up to meet Roland's bewildered gaze. "I was there." Silence echoes around them. Regina sitting up a touch straighter as Roland slouches back into his chair in confusion.

"I don't understand." Their son whispers out, eyes desperately tracing his father's features for some sort of explanation. "You weren't there. You were dead."

Regina shrinks at that, her hands trembling in Robin's grip. She doesn't want to think about that, him not being here, not when he is sitting in front of her alive and breathing. But she too doesn't really understand how it's even possible Robin would know a part of Roland's life he didn't witness. Robin lets a breath go, sits up a bit taller, and smiles smally at his son. "When I died, I didn't really leave this place." His eyes flicker to Regina before he continues, "I woke up, I suppose in a forest that was covered in fog. Time there didn't move, and sleep wasn't something I ever felt the need for. So I walked. To nowhere in particular, but my heart kept telling me to move further, so I did. I'm not sure for how long, but I eventually ended up in this clearing, much like the Merry Men's camp, and I saw you."

"I was there?" Roland whimpers unsettled. "How is that possible?"

Robin smiles, squeezes Regina's fingers, and looks at his son. "It was like a compass. You were the East. The Merry Men South. Henry had been West and Regina was due north." Her breath hitches and tightens in her lungs. He has been with her since he died, never left. "It was like a moving picture, but it was all of you. Living day by day, and I watched every moment of it." Tears flush into his blue eyes as he takes in the very real nature of the people sitting around him. Being able to actually touch them, physically, feel their heat and skin on his hands, it's beyond what words can describe. "In the beginning when I first found that place, I tried to call your names, ran right to you son and hugged you, but my body was like a ghost and I fell right through you." He sniffs, blinking back the pooling wetness. "I realized then that you couldn't feel me, see me or even hear me. So I just followed you instead. Everywhere you all went, I walked behind."

Regina bites down on her shaky lower lip, swallowing the sob that climbs up her body. But Roland, he openly lets his tears fall, whether by choice or simply the inability to control them, he weeps. "I heard you one time you know."

Robin smiles.

"I had just stolen two bags of gold from George's castle and there was this father and son on the road back, beggars who were poorer than dirt. I watched them for a long time, and they had nothing but each other, and they seemed happy. It made me angry." He confesses quietly. "I was about to ride away but the little boy came up to me and asked for food I didn't have, but I had the gold."

"You weren't going to give it to them."

"No. I wasn't."

Robin sighs, lets Regina's hand go and moves towards Roland, hands gently squeezing his son's shoulders. "You told me to not let greed take over my heart. That there are people in this world who needed the gold more that I did."

"And what did you do?"

"I left both bags with them."

Pride blooms into Robin as he hugs his boy tight, telling him softly how proud he is of him and the man he's become. Henry saddles up beside Regina. Had run here the moment Maleficent had called him and embraced his stepfather with a fierceness Regina hadn't seen since Roland had come home. She cried at their embrace. It was so pure and filled with such relief. Her son wraps an arm around her shoulders, kisses her cheek affectionately with a smile and reaches for her hands, tucking them into his own.

"I'm sorry for how the Merry Men handle my death Roland. They never should have taken you back to Sherwood and they never should have kept the truth from you."

"Thanks, Dad. I'm just really glad you are here."

"Me too, son."

How he is here, they haven't exactly shared, knowing full well that he would be less than amused with what they did, the self harm they inflicted. It's a story for another night, one that won't be ruined by his aggravation that they put themselves in danger just for him. For now, they are all just grateful to be in each other's company once more.

"And Henry, how's Violet coming along?" He turns with a glint in his eye towards his other son, a cheeky grin splitting across his face as Henry flushes beside Regina who cocks an eyebrow at her boy.

He shifts a bit nervously on the sofa, huffing out a half shy laugh. "She's good."

"Just good?" Robin prods gently, taking his residence beside Regina back up.

"She's pregnant." Henry admits and Regina's jaw drops. She had no idea they were even trying for a baby, how could she have missed that. "Not far along, still in her first trimester, but she's feeling really, really good."

"Give her my best wishes." Robin smiles and plays with the emerald ring on Regina's left hand. "I am very excited to meet my daughter-in-law."

"She knows a lot about you."

"Hang on. She's pregnant?" Regina finally figures out how to use her mouth for anything but hanging wide open. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Henry chuckles, squeezing his mother's thigh, "We were waiting to make sure everything with the baby was healthy before we spread the news."

"How many weeks is she?"

"Ten. The little nugget would be the size of a grape tomato right about now." He beams, "Halfway to finding out if it's a boy or a girl. Violet wants a daughter."

"And you?"

"I'd be happy with either, though little girls absolutely terrify me." Henry laughs alongside Robin and Roland. But Regina just stares in disbelief. Her baby is going to be a daddy. Her little prince, a father. Her heart swells and flips about at the thought. She's going to be a grandma. When did life decide to be this kind to her?

"Don't let Violet on that you all know. She wants it to be a surprise at brunch next weekend."

"Scouts honor," Robin's hand flies up in promise. "I'm going to be a granddad."

His smile is infectious as Roland breaks into a matching grin, "I am going to be an uncle. This is so cool!"

"Thanks guys. Means a lot to me. Uh, Mom, you okay?"

"Yes, I am just shocked."

"Happy, shocked, or wishing you had the birds and bees talk with me shock?"

She cringes, smiling embarrassed as she confesses, "A bit of both?"

"You can blame Hook. He had some very interesting advice on the subject." Henry laughs. "Speaking of Violet though, I should probably get home. I need to get her more prenatal vitamins and mint chocolate chip ice cream or she will have my head."

He stands, kisses Regina on the cheek with a playful, "See you tomorrow, Grandma." Hugging Roland and Robin tight, with promises to bring his pregnant wife around soon. Robin walks with him to the door, hugging him one last time before bidding him a good night.

"So, Roland. Henry has Violet, tell me whatever did happen with that cute young girl, Tina? Trina?"

Roland flushes, "Tatiana."

"Ah yes. Tatiana. She made a mean bowl of stew if I recall." He grins, settling back beside Regina, as his son squirms in his seat. Regina chuckles, rolls her eyes at Robin's smile, ever the inquisitor her thief is.

"It didn't work out." Roland runs a hand through his hair, huffing out a breath when Robin's asks  _why not?_ "Because, Dad, I had other things than chasing skirts on my mind."

"Well I liked her." Robin puffs out, turning to nuzzle into Regina's hair, "Perhaps you will cross paths again."

"Not likely. Can we talk about something other than my love life? Please."

"Fine. Tell me about that bar fight you got into then."

"Dad! Come on! Can we not?" Roland groans, smiles, but groans as Robin laughs. "I'm only teasing you, son. Those men had it coming if you ask me." He shrugs, "I've been in a brawl a time or two you know."

"Oh? Perhaps you'd like to share exactly who threw the first punch?" Regina goads him as he yipes away from the fingers that poke into his chest. "Come on. Share."

"I'd really rather not."

"Oh sure, so I have to spill but you are exempt?"

"I plead the fifth." Robin tosses his hands into the air, "Just know they came away much worse than I did."

"I'll bet." Regina chuckles, runs a hand through the stubble on his jaw. She gets to feel this. Everyday she is going to be allowed to simply touch him. Her smile widens at that thought. She has him back. They settle into an easy conversation of how Robin had watched Roland grow up, his stories never touching what Regina's life had become. It's odd. The avoidance he carefully treads through. It makes her heart unsettled. Does he not want to talk about it? She's not sure she wants too either, but still. A bit of acknowledgement would be nice.

It appears Robin can sense her unease, his fingers rubbing the back of her palm incessantly, thumbing the emerald ring he'd given her all those years ago, a promise he'd made to stay by her side always. Maybe it brings up bad memories for him too. If he's seen everything in the life go on, perhaps there is a hint of sadness that they lived without him. She certainly hopes that's not the case, but his eyes are sad when they find hers every now and again. Roland talks late into the night, the fire behind them dwindling low and burning out as he yawns and stretches.

"You should go to bed son."

Roland shrugs, "I'm a bit afraid this is all just a dream. That I'll wake up tomorrow and you won't actually be here."

Tears burn Regina's eyes at the admission. She too holds the same fear that this, having Robin here, is all too good to be true. Perhaps there is a spell she can cast that will forever keep her awake, just to make sure he doesn't evaporate in front of her eyes once again. It will always be a fear though. She knows that. Probably even more so now that she truly did lose him once and it could happen again within the blink of an eye.

"Roland. I am not leaving. I won't again."

"You say that now, but I know you, Dad. You act before you think." Roland gruffs out, his happy demeanor suddenly vanishing. It hurts Regina's heart. Physically pains the organ that goes out to the boy. She sighs, steels her own anxiety because she knows exactly where he is coming from. Lived through it, and it was awful. "What happens the next time you decide to act like an idiot?" Roland grumbles, "What then, Dad?"

She can see the way Robin's face cringes, the creases on his forehead deep set in an anguished frown. He feels guilty. It's etched across every line in his face as he blows out a heavy, long breath. "I'm sorry that I left you, Roland."

"You've said that. You know what I am tired. I'm going to bed."

"Roland! Wait. Let me explain."

Roland spins on the spot, eyes wide and watering at his father who sits little on the couch. "You don't need to explain it, Dad. Regina told me what happened. And I get it. You love her. And you are you, honour and sacrifice is part of your bloody code." His breath is erratic as he shakes his head. "I'm not mad at you for doing it. But I wish you would have just taken a second to think about who else you were leaving behind."

"I know. I am sorry Roland. I will spend the rest of my life making up for leaving you."

Roland shuffles on the spot, chews his bottom lip anxiously. "You promise you won't do that again?" He eyes up his father nervously. "I can't promise you that." Robin answers quietly, running his thumb over the emerald ring on Regina's finger. "If it ever came down to it, if any of you were ever put in danger, I couldn't just stand there and do nothing."

Regina stills at his words, her heart clenching in her chest at the thought of losing him again. She knows he is telling the truth. His protective streak over his family is rivaled by only her own. And if she is stubborn about that fact, Robin is absolutely unbendable.

"Yeah well. Just try not to okay?" Roland heaves out a breath and runs his hand through his curly hair. "I want  _this_ to stay as it is."

"This?"

"Us. Being a family again. I just...It's been a long time since I've felt safe like this." He confesses as the tears build up in his eyes. Robin sighs, smiles and stands, letting Regina's hand go momentarily as he makes his way over to his son. Not a little boy anymore, but still, he needs his father just the same.

Robin's palms land on Roland's shoulders, eyes soft but determined as they lock onto Roland's wary ones. "No matter what happens in the future Roland. We are always a family. This is your home. That won't ever change." His voice strong and steady. Roland's eyes move from his, over his shoulder to catch Regina's, who is staring up at both of them with tears. His heart thumps, and he feels it, down to his very core.

"It's nice to be home again." He smiles finally, and Robin wraps him in a tight hug. "I know the feeling."

"Regina?" Roland calls her name as he and his father part, "Think we could do pancakes tomorrow for breakfast? I'll help."

She beams, wipes away a few tears on her cheeks and nods. They can have pancakes every single morning for the rest of her life if it will make him happy.

"Cool. Okay well, I will see you both in the morning."

"Goodnight son."

"Night Dad." He hugs Robin once more, momentarily burrowing his face into his father's neck, relishing in the contact he's so longed to have back again.

They watch Roland leave, skip up the steps and wait for the sound of his door to click shut.

"I would do it again, Regina." Robin turns and sits down beside her, folding her fingers into his own. "I would do it a thousand times again. I hope you know that." He holds her watering eyes, hoping that she knows just how much she means to him and the lengths he will gladly go to ensure her safety.

She smiles, tears brimming once more and kisses the soft cotton over his skin, "I know. But Roland is right." Robin stills, turns to his eyes, wet as they are, to find her. Regina shrugs, nuzzles against him, "You are a hero to the core, and actions, pure intended as they are, always come with consequences, and sometimes it leaves wounds behind."

He sighs, leaning into her palm that's moved to cup his cheek, a kiss landed to the soft delicate skin there, "I'm sorry for causing you all so much pain."

"There is nothing to forgive, Robin. You saved my life. I am forever in your debt."

"No."

"No?"

"Regina, listen to me. There is no debt in this. I knew what I was doing. What was going to happen to me. Clear as day. I knew exactly what I was about to do." His voice is strong, unwavering in its honesty. It has her heart flipping thrice over. The amount of love she has for this man is beyond comprehension. Even she doesn't really understand this feeling. But she likes it. A lot. It has a thought crossing her mind, a dismal dark thing that creeps and crawls into her gut.

"What's wrong?"

She swallows back the taste of guilty ash on her tongue. "Did you know that I loved you?" Robin's eyes widen as he scans her face rather stunned at the question. Of course he knew. It was written in her eyes every time she looked at him. Even in the saddest moments of their story he could see it, feel it pouring out from every inch of her.

"I never told you, you know? That I did… love you."

A single tear falls as she sniffs heavily, Robin's thumb there to catch it as it always had. "I knew, Regina."

"Did you?"

"Yes, my love. And I am sorry that I never told you as well."

"You didn't have to."

"Neither did you." He smiles, kissing her knuckles sweetly, "I think that's somewhat of a unspoken thing between us. We don't need the words, we just know."

"Sometimes words need to be said." She whispers rather shyly as he chuckles, leans back and wraps an arm around her back, cupping her cheek with his now free hand, taking a moment to card through her hair and breathe in everything about her. "Well then. Regina Mills, I, Robin of Locksley," he grins as she blushes, "Love every single damn thing about you. Your eyes. Your gorgeous smile. That maddening smell of cinnamon in your hair. The way you tuck yourself into me and hold my hand just because. I love the way you love our children. That no obstacle seems like an issue for you. The determination of your mind, the strength in your heart. I love you. Always have, and I always will."

She flushes, licking her lips to hide the smile that rips across her face.

"That was a lot of words."

"Simply making up for lost time."

She kisses him. Because she can. Tucks her fingers into the silver hair at the nape of his neck and tugs him in tighter with her other arm wrapping around his back. He hums into the kiss, holding at the base of her head just like he used to do, coasting a thumb over her cheekbone when they part, a touch breathless.

A soft sound of footsteps has Regina turning away from the sparkling blue eyes, onto another familiar ocean hue. "Mal. Hi." She sits back from Robin as the blonde smiles softly at the pair and takes a seat across from them. The look that passes through Robin's eyes has Regina beyond curious. They have never met, not crossed paths even once. But here he is looking at the Dragon as though she is the saviour he's only just found.

Clearly Maleficent senses the underlying unspoken words as she shifts and locks eyes with Robin. "I'm glad to see you back."

"Thank you."

He's not just thanking her for the comment but for something far deeper, his voice is filled with emotion as he squeezes Regina's hand but keeps his eyes on Mal. "I mean it. I can't possibly explain how grateful I am that you were,  _are_  here for her." He swallows hard, eyes glazing over with tears as the Dragon sits somewhat stunned by the vulnerable display.

She smiles, sort of, flicking her gaze between Robin and Regina who sits quietly beside him. "I appreciate that. I share some of that same affection you do for her."

Robin chuckles, turning back to Regina who's cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he kisses her cheek again. Sending those damn butterflies in her stomach into a flutter fit once more. "Why don't I get us all a bottle of wine to share."

"I'd prefer—"

"Yes, I know, Mal. Scotch on the rocks." Regina rolls her eyes as she stands, purposefully running her hands along the palm of the Dragon's that sits wide open. "Another thing we have in common." Robin nods to Maleficent with a smile.

"Fine, two scotches and a bottle of wine for me." She leaves them with a wink, and heads to the kitchen. For a moment neither of them speak as they watch Regina walk away, a view they can both appreciate.

"She loves you." Robin breaks the quiet first.

"And I her." Maleficent answers smoothly.

"Thank you."

"You've said that."

"I mean it. Truly, Maleficent. I have no intention of coming in between you two."

"That's really up to Regina. She is what's important here." Mal fiddles with her fingers and Robin can see the tiny flicker of fear in her eyes. The idea that just because he is here, she will be abandoned to the wayside. He refuses to let that happen. After everything he's seen go on since the day he died, the way the Dragon was truly the only one who kept Regina's head above water, how their relationship blossomed into protective affection. He will not take that away from either of them.

"I want you to stay." He honestly admits. Hoping that the Dragon can see the truth and virtue to his words. It would appear, with the small smile that creeps into Maleficent's lips, that she does understand, rare tears forming into her eyes as she lets her hand be enveloped by Robin's with a gentle clasp. "You make her happy, and that is all I could ever hope for."

"Am I interrupting something?" Regina's voice breaks their contact as the both grin happily and a touch relieved as she walks back into the living room, glasses and bottle in tow. Robin is the first to answer her question with a soft  _no_ , taking the glass of scotch from her hands and passes the second to Maleficent. Regina freezes for a half moment, an internal debate which one of them to sit beside. If she sits with Mal, will Robin be hurt? And what about the Dragon's feeling if she takes up a spot beside Robin again? She chews her lower lip, flicking her gaze between the two of them and the open cushions beside each.

"Regina? What's wrong?" Mal questions with a curious look. Apparently Regina's poker face isn't as good as she'd like to think. Both of their eyes lock softly onto her and Maleficent stands, reaching for Regina's hand and walks her over to Robin with a smile as they both sit down on the sofa, a little squishy, but the proximity makes Regina's heart double over as she hides her smile behind a curtain of hair. One Robin's fingers quickly find and tucks behind her ear. She blushes at the contact, eyeing him up happily, listening to Mal sigh contently beside her as she sips back the first burn of alcohol. "I don't know why you insist on wine when you could have something so much more satisfying." Mal bumps her shoulder to Regina who rolls her eyes and fills her glass up rather fully.

"I have to agree with Maleficent. Wine is so…."

"So what?" She quips Robin's lingering thought as he too takes a large sip and chuckles.

"Grapey." He laughs, leaning back into the sofa. Regina shrugs, gulps back a much needed swig of the merlot and follows their lead into the cushions, curling her legs up underneath her, purring as Mal runs her fingers through her chocolate curls. "It's a royalty thing." Mal scrunches her nose at the smell of the wine, eyeing it as though it's personally done her wrong.

"It is not!"

"Love, Mal is right. The only time I've ever had a glass is with you."

"What's your point?" She huffs back, holding her liquor tight to her chest protectively.

Mal lets an uncharacteristic giggle escape as she and Robin share a knowing look between Regina. "Why are you both laughing at me?"

Robin leans in, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, and winks over top her head at Mal who simply laughs once more, squeezing Regina's thigh gently.

"Both of you are going to be sleeping on the couch if you keep this up." Regina growls half heartedly knowing full well that is the furthest thing from the truth. They are never leaving her side, either of them. And it appears they are on the same page. At least she hopes they are.

She frowns into the red liquor swirling in the glass, swallowing her nerves as she squirms fractionally between them.

"Say it." Mal nods.

How does she always know something is on Regina's mind? Her eyes lock onto the bright inquisitive blue of her Dragon, searching for an unspoken answer, but Mal just waits for her to say the actual words.

Robin squeezes her hand, shifts enough to rest his chin on her shoulder, the smell of pine invading her, mixing with the amber spice of Maleficent. She could get used to this, their mixture clouding her brain and making her heart stumble over itself.

"Are you both okay with this?" She gestures between the three of them. "I know it's different, and I understand if we need to set some boundaries. But I am not willing to give either of you up." She flushes shyly, avoiding their eyes. "I love you both."

"Well, I am not certain about how Maleficent feels about sharing you, being a possessive dragon and all." Robin smirks at Mal, who rolls her eyes. "But, the most important thing here is your heart. And I would be more than grateful to share it."

"You would?" Regina's voice shakes as she turns to face Robin, bumping his nose thanks to the small distance between them. He smiles and Regina melts when he leans in the last bit of space and kisses her softly. She hums into the affection, curling her fingers into his grey shirt, feeling the way his heart beats steady beneath her palm, the complete opposite of her own.

"If I can get over the smell of tree's, then I think this will work out." Mal snorts into her scotch, eyes glinting when Regina and Robin turn to face her.

"Don't Dragon's live in the forest?"

"Mountain caves."

"Mountains that are usually in a forest." Robin chuckles back at the indignant quip, reaching over Regina's thighs to grab Mal's hand, tugs it gently once so she gets the idea and lets him lead her palm over the one he has laced with Regina's.

"Regina, I know what Maleficent means to you. And I wish I could express how grateful I am that you had someone to be there when I couldn't." Robin clutches her hand tightly, "You needed her. Need her still. I will not take that happiness away from you. Either of you." He flicks his eyes up to Maleficent who smiles in return.

"I just, I want to make sure you are both also happy. I am not there only person in this situation."

"I understand that. We both do. But whilst Mal and I may differ on where Dragon's live, there is one thing we are concretely adamant on."

Regina frowns, glancing between two pairs of blue eyes.

"You." Mal supplies softly, squeezing their hands together. "If this, us, will make you happy, then we are both on board."

"Are you sure?"

They lean in at the same time, pressing mutual affections to her cheeks as she blushes.

"I think the three of us will do just fine." He smiles at both women.

"Thank you." Regina whispers between them, stunned that they are willing to do this with her. Whatever it ends up being, they are here, she has her family whole, something she never thought was a possibility.

It seems she's finally found the one thing she's been searching her entire life for.

She's found her home.

**THE END.**

(Massive thanks to all of you who stayed with me through the pain and angst till the very end. I hope you have enjoyed this story and are content with it's ending. See you in another fic!)


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